As Always, I Remain
by sss979
Summary: Murdock has moved AWAY from the love of his life. But can he move past her? Season 5. WARNINGS: Adult situations and discussion of the wartime sex industry.
1. Prologue

**RATING: R**

**SUMMARY: Murdock has moved AWAY from the love of his life. But can he move past her? Season 5. **

**WARNINGS: Adult situations and discussion of the wartime sex industry.**

**PROLOGUE**

**October 12, 1986**

**Dear Kelly,**

** There's some part of me that feels the need to explain. Not that I particularly want to. I could think of a whole lot of things I'd rather do than spill my heart out all over this paper and send it in the mail to you. And at the same time that it feels like too much, it also feels like it's not enough. We were together for a long time. Well, it was a long time for me. And it's hard to sum that up in just a few words. I've also never had to write a letter like this before. Everyone I've ever cared about before you is either still with me or dead. Well, I guess that's not true. Now that I think about it, some of them just sort of disappeared and I never knew what happened to them. Like...**

** Well, I'll get there in a minute. It's really not important for right now, for what I'm trying to say. I've got to apologize in advance if I ramble a little. I'm just going to try to get this out as best I can. And I've never been real good with words. Going to try my best. **

** I think I'm stalling. So here goes.**

** I've been trying to talk to you for weeks. I guess this is me realizing that you're never going to answer your phone. Not because you can't, because if I thought you were in any kind of trouble that you **_**couldn't **_**answer, I'd be in California right now, making sure you're okay. But I know you're not answering because you don't want to. I know you're well. And I want to say that whatever your reasons are for not answering, I understand. Well, maybe not understand, but it's hard to be angry about it. In fact, it's hard to feel anything about it. In this strange sort of numb and cold way, it's just a fact. What we had was beautiful. And now it's over. And I'm okay with that. But I still have a few last things that I want to say about **_**why **_**you won't answer your phone. I owe you an explanation. And maybe an apology, too. So here it is.**

** I really loved you. Not just a little, but a lot. I think no matter how many years go by or how much time changes both of us, you're always going to hold a special place in my heart. For that, I guess I could say that I still love you. Even though I can't be with you, and never will be able to again, I do love you. And I miss you. But more than that, I respect you, and the person you've become. I don't want to hinder that wonderful and strong person from becoming all that she can be.**

** And so I write. It is my explanation, my apology, and my closing words to a beautiful woman with an exciting and rewarding future ahead of her. And I hope you'll take the time to read it. But if you don't, I understand that, too.**


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

** To explain what happened, I really have to go all the way back. Not quite so far back as childhood, although that's probably where it started. In fact, I know that's where it started but I prefer not to think of those things. In a way, I choose to think of my time in Vietnam as "the beginning." It's where all the stories start. The moment that I met Hannibal and the team, it was like hitting the reset button on my life. Nothing before that matters, really. It was everything after that that made me into the person I am today – both the good and the bad. **

** Don't get me wrong. I'm not a complete idiot. Plenty of therapists have tried to get me to talk about my childhood, and they all have varied opinions on how those early years affect me. But that's not important right now. And I'm going to try very hard not to get off track.**

** When I met the team, something changed for me. Suddenly, I had a family and a purpose and a goal. But even so, I was not like other soldiers. I always knew it. I was just different. I never quite fit. And whether they meant to or not, it seemed like everyone always found little ways to remind me of that.**

**October, 1969**

"Keep staring like that and you're gonna have every gook whore in this bar coming at you for money."

Murdock shook his head, startled out of his thoughts as he glanced across the table at Cruiser. "Huh? What?"

Cruiser laughed. "You look fucking desperate. Just go grab one of them, already. Not like you can't afford it."

Murdock made a disgusted face as he looked away. "Not interested."

"Why the hell not? When was the last time you got laid, anyway?"

Too long ago. Murdock knew that. But damned if he was going to admit it. "You and I want very different things," Murdock said, taking a sip of his formaldehyde flavored beer.

He glanced up as Face returned to the table with his arm around a girl who couldn't possibly be any older than fourteen. Murdock looked away as Face kissed her cheek and gave her some whispered instructions – and money – that she took with a smile.

"I just don't see women the way you two do," Murdock continued as he watched the girl wander away.

"Really?" Face asked, amused. "How do you see them?"

"To me, women are like…" He hesitated for a long moment, trying to find a good comparison. Finally, he smiled. "Like unicorns."

Cruiser paused with his beer halfway raised, stared speechlessly at Murdock for a moment, then set the glass back down. "Like what?" he asked in disbelief.

Murdock's smile grew. "Unicorns. You know. Beautiful, mystical creatures that are pretty to look at, even prettier to touch, and can trample a man to death if he's not very, very careful."

"Uh, Murdock," Face started, "aren't unicorns, by definition, not real?"

"Thank you," Cruiser interjected. "My point exactly."

"Of course they're real. They have 'em out at a government facility near Area 51."

Face laughed, as if that explained everything. "Well, then. My mistake."

Cruiser's eyes narrowed. "I think I need a shot of… something. Anything."

"Barkeep!"

Murdock ignored Face's call over his shoulder.

"Get the bottle," Cruiser said as he tossed a wad of cash on the table. "It's on me."

"Just no tequila," Murdock pleaded.

"What, you want a wine cooler instead? Share one with your unicorn?"

Murdock grinned. "How about something with an umbrella in it?"

All three of them paused as the bartender brought a bottle of vodka and a few shot glasses to go with it. Face poured, and raised his glass for a toast. "To unicorns," he said, trying not to snicker. "Whatever the fuck that means."

Cruiser raised a brow and nodded toward Face. "Your guess is as good as mine." He threw back, and breathed out slow. "Probably better."

Face and Murdock followed a second behind, and Face coughed just slightly as he clacked the glass down on the table. "Far as I know, every woman I've fucked has been real and I do not remember any of them looking anything like a mythological horse. Though, I was pretty drunk with a few of them. But I think I'd remember that."

"You would hope," Cruiser answered. "Though I'm perfectly willing to start packing a camera just in case."

As Face gave Cruiser a one-fingered salute, Murdock rolled his eyes. "It's called a metaphor, guys. Geez."

"Metaphor?" Cruiser laughed as he poured all three of them another shot. "I don't want anything to do with a metaphor that compares the woman I'm fucking to a horse. You can keep that shit to yourself."

"That one girl did sound like a horse," Murdock admitted, quietly considering the shot of vodka for a moment. "When she laughed."

"Rode like one, too," Face added with a slight chuckle. He glanced up at Cruiser with a shrug and a smirk. "I guess in that light, the analogy ain't that bad."

Cruiser laughed outright. "She buck you off, LT?"

"No." Face gave that signature, satisfied grin he always got when he was very pleased with himself. "But she sure as hell tried."

"You can run with it Face, I want nothing to do with livestock analogies."

Murdock scowled. "Unicorns are not livestock. You don't raise them for meat."

"Semantics." Cruiser took a swig from the bottle. "Either way, they don't have an orifice that interests me."

"Not well enough used for you?" Face challenged. "Or just too big?"

Cruiser laughed. "Fuck you."

*X*X*X*

** The truth was, I was far lonelier than I ever let on. I think we all were. People find different ways of dealing with what they can't have. They find substitutes or they get hard and say they don't need it. There was never really any substitute that was close enough to what I wanted that I felt it was worth the effort. **

** There's this warmth and comfort in human touch that's entirely lacking in a war-torn country. It's not really sexual, it's just... that closeness. How you can just hold onto somebody and know it's all going to be okay. The way I saw it, Face and Cruiser substituted sex for that. But those women didn't have that touch. There was no comfort in their arms. I could tell that just by looking at them. They were tired and overworked and underpaid. Men were clients, and that was something I didn't want to be. It disgusted me. Not even for the morals of it or anything like that. It was just... a perversion. I don't know how to describe it.**

** Anyways, there was nothing about that I found appealing. But after so long of wanting something you can't have, you eventually get to the point where you're desperate enough to try anything. I knew they weren't what I wanted. But it worked for Face. And really, all I wanted was to feel. It would've been enough for me if I could just lie to myself and just pretend for a few minutes that they were real. That they were what I wanted. That they could make me feel.**

**December, 1969**

"The odd thing is, Sugar, the more I drink the better I dance."

The Vietnamese girl probably didn't understand a word of what he'd just said. At least not over the sound of the music and the chatter all around them. Nevertheless, she giggled at him. "You good dance."

In fact, his "dancing" had cleared a small patch of the dance floor in the bar full of soldiers. It seemed that he was made of flailing limbs, each one moving to a different song.

"What you name, GI?"

He smiled at her. "You can call me HM, beautiful." He moved closer to her, still dancing. "What's your name?"

"Leah."

He was inclined to ask for her real name, but it didn't really matter anyways. He let it go, wrapping his arm around her waist. For a few blissful moments there was only music and the girl in front of him.

"You got girlfriend, Vietnam?" she asked, reaching up to stroke his jaw lightly.

The question elicited an immediate – unwelcome – response. A memory, long buried in the recesses of his subconscious, where it belonged. He shook his head as he forced the whispering ghost back into the far corner of his mind. "Not right now, no."

Moving quickly, he pulled her closer and leaned in for a deep, mind-numbing kiss. The whispering stopped.

The kiss caught her off guard, and she squeaked quietly as she put her hands on his shoulders. "You want party? We go." She struck a pose for him. "I love you too much."

He hesitated for a moment. He knew the warnings about the prostitutes in Saigon – hell, anywhere in Vietnam. The fact that the ones in the bar were a little less confrontational than the ones on the street didn't make them less dangerous in the end. Didn't make them much different at all. She would name her price, and she would be stunned when he didn't haggle with her over it. She would "love him" the way she loved a hundred other GIs.

He didn't want that. She wouldn't understand.

But maybe, just maybe, this one could be different. There was always a chance, right? And he really was enjoying her company. "Where did you have in mind?" he asked, running one hand over her hair. His other hand made its way down her side.

She smiled and pressed closer to him, rubbing against his front. She took his hand, and stepped towards the door. "Me show you. You like."

He glanced around, but didn't see Face or Cruiser. Where had they gone? No telling. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them disappeared off into a room somewhere and left him in the bar. Hell, he normally preferred it that way. He had little interest in the whores on any given night. But Leah was different. He really liked her…

"Okay, sure. Let's go."

Murdock allowed himself to be led out of the bar. He noticed nothing but the way her hips swayed when she walked. It was hypnotic; his whole head swayed back in forth with the rhythm of her hips. He wondered if he might be drunk.

The room was cheap. He gave her the change after he'd paid, assuming her fee would be about the same as what every working girl wanted to charge. He read the surprise on her face. Shocking, that he wouldn't want to argue with her over how much she was worth. But the mere thought of it disgusted him.

Inside the room she turned to him immediately, watching his eyes as her fingers worked quickly and efficiently down her own shirt. As she shrugged her shoulders back, letting it fall and catch on her elbows, she set her hands on his narrow hips. "What you like, HM? You tell me. Me do."

Murdock's hands went to her now bare shoulders, his fingertips just barley brushing the soft skin. With a small sigh he leaned forward, setting his face against the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent. The smell of a woman - so beautiful and foreign in this hell hole. His fingers traced feather-light patterns as his kisses started from the nape of her neck and moved to just under her jaw.

"I want to see you," he whispered. The words seemed to catch in his throat. "Not just see you, but…"

He wanted so much more. He wanted to see and touch and taste and smell and breathe her - warmth and comfort and intimacy in this hopeless place. How could he possibly tell her all of that? How could he make her understand it?

She untucked his shirt, and her hands slid inside. He gasped as her fingers touched his abs. God, he had forgotten how good it felt to have someone touch him like that - skin to skin, nothing in the way. He drew in a shaky breath and cupped her chin in his hand.

"I want to touch you." His hand brushed her thick hair away from her neck. Placing a kiss just under her ear he whispered low, "I want you to want me to do it."

She took a small step back, shedding the skirt and what little was beneath it. Her shirt fell to the floor by default and she watched him as she lowered to her knees in front of him, tiny fingers working at the buttons of his fatigues as she leaned forward and nudged his shirt aside. He let out a small gasp at the sensation of her soft wet lips on his stomach, just above the waist of his pants. He could feel his groin begin to tighten. Her breath was hot, and each exhale made his skin tingle. God, how could he have ever thought this was not a good idea?

As she unfastened the buttons, she reached her hands inside and carefully pulled his cock free from his boxers. A low moan was all he could manage as her lips touched him. His hands worked into her hair, stroking the silky strands, feeling it brush against his arms.

His thoughts wandered. The beautiful warmth of her mouth brought memories he'd fought hard to keep at bay. He didn't fight them now. He lost himself in them, clinging to that warm flood of emotion. It wasn't real love; he hardly knew Leah. But it was just enough like it to make him remember what love felt like. Just enough to make him feel alive.

He wanted all of it – the feel of her skin on his, the taste of her sweat, the sound of her moans, the touch of her hands and lips, the friction of his hair sliding on her smoothness. It kept him focused and kept him grounded and kept him _there_. So much of his life was lived now with only one foot in the present. The other - whether it be in the painful past, the unseen future, or some untouched fantasy world - never felt really real.

It was strange how the simple sight and smell and feel of a woman could make a place as miserable as Vietnam bearable. It was stranger still to be so close to a woman who was so far away from him.

"[Show me what you like, Leah.]"

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "[You speak Vietnamese?]"

That tightening feeling in Murdock's chest was almost overwhelming. He couldn't explain what he wanted, needed. He knew she couldn't really understand what he what asking for. He wanted the touch of her, the feeling, the smell, the taste, the sound of her to envelope him, to overwhelm his senses. He wanted his focus to narrow down to just one thing – her – so that he couldn't think about anything. He wanted to put his active mind to rest, to know for a few fleeting moments what it felt like to be really fully living, and whole.

He knew she couldn't do that for him. But he needed it so badly, it was painful.


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

** Ultimately, the problem was even more complicated by the reality of who and what we were, and the world we lived in. We were soldiers, occupying a foreign country that trained their women for war right alongside the men. There were things that had to be taken into account that you simply don't think about if you've never been there. In the States, you never think about your lover pulling a knife on you when you're most vulnerable. Even if you're with someone you don't really love, that's just never something you have to think about. But that's one of the things they taught us right out of training, just as soon as we set foot in country. "Don't trust the prostitutes," they said. **

** God help the man who didn't listen.**

**December, 1969**

"Murdock!"

The knock on the door jolted him so hard, panic instincts kicked in. He reached under the pillow for a gun that wasn't there, eyes frantically darting to exits. His eyes locked on the door as he heard the yell coming through it. It was hard to tell if that was anger or panic in Face's voice. Either way, it wasn't good. "Open this goddamn door in the next three seconds or I'm breaking it down!"

Murdock shook his head in confusion. Why was Face here? What did he want? Before he even had a chance to gather his thoughts enough to ask, the doorframe cracked and Face stepped in, pistol in hand. More than that, it was aimed straight at the girl lying beside him. His eyes were full of fire as he glared at her. "Out!"

Murdock knew his jaw was hanging open as she fell out of the bed in her scramble to comply and grabbed her clothes up off the floor. Face tossed a ten dollar bill on the floor beside them, and she grabbed that too. Then she was out the door, naked, anxious to put as much distance between herself and the crazy GI with the gun as possible. Face kicked the door closed behind her, and put the gun down to his side as he glared at Murdock.

"What the _fuck _are you thinking!"

"Me!" Murdock's shock turned to sudden and unexpected rage. Maybe if his evening had gone better, he would have thought more carefully before answering. As it was, his words were pure, unfiltered emotional reaction.

"I was thinking I wanna get laid!" He was having no luck finding his pants, but he did find his shirt. Shoving his arms in, he continued in a yell. "What in the hell are you thinking?"

Face grabbed his pants off the floor and threw them at him like a weapon. "Do you realize that half these gook whores are serving officers in the Viet Cong? What the _fuck _am I supposed to tell Hannibal if you go running off with one of them and get your _dick_ cut off, huh? 'Sorry, Colonel, he wanted to get laid and for whatever _stupid_ fucking reason, he ran off without even _telling _us where he was going!'" Face was yelling, too. Apparently he cared as little as Murdock did for who heard them. "Are you trying to get your ass killed?"

Murdock suddenly realized that he had a headache. Maybe it was the cheap liquor. Maybe it was the girl. But Face's wild eyed screaming was just the icing on his shit cake. Murdock growled, low in his throat, as he moved to the side of the bed and put one leg in his pants. "What, Face, suddenly you care?" The sarcasm was evident in his voice. "If it was such a big fucking problem why did you leave me alone in the bar? Or is it okay to fuck in the bar?" He stood, and pulled his pants up, fastening them quickly.

Face snarled at him. "You wanna fuck in the bar, you go right ahead. There's more of us than there is of them in that bar. Nobody's gonna kill you in that bar. But when you separate yourself from your team to go lock yourself in a room with a potential enemy and not even tell us where we should start looking for your body then _yeah_! I've got a problem with that!"

"Well that's great, Face." Murdock reached for his boots. "Thanks for advice. Maybe you should think about writing a book. You know, like, Ms. Manners for Greenies."

"Don't you get fuckin' cute with me," Face growled. "You're _dead _outta line here."

Murdock knew he should stop, but he was too frustrated and angry to heed that warning voice in his head. "I'm out of line? You just busted down my fucking door!"

Face glared daggers at him. "This ain't new to you, Murdock. You heard the same goddamn spiel I did when you came here. And maybe you don't take it seriously because you've never seen it, but I _have_! I've walked in on women with American soldiers who are bleeding to death on the bed and it could've been you!"

Boots on but still untied, Murdock stood and walked to the floor. "Like you give a damn, Face," he shot, bitterly. "Your only problem with that would be that you'd have to be the one to tell Hannibal."

Face put a hand on the door before Murdock could pull it open, pushing it closed against its broken frame. "Don't play that fucking pitiful routine," he said, low. "What you did here was wrong. And it was _stupid_. Jesus, Murdock, what the hell were you thinking?"

Murdock turned to look at Face. He was surprised to see something almost like relief in his eyes. With a shock, he suddenly realized that Face had actually been worried. With a deep, heartfelt sigh, Murdock sagged back against the wall beside the door and closed his eyes for a second.

"Look, okay. What do you want me to say? I wasn't thinking, alright?" He took a breath and looked down. He should stop. But the words kept coming. "I just didn't want to be alone tonight. Geez, is that so much to fucking ask?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Face rub his forehead, as if massaging away a headache. "Man, I _get_ that, okay? But it's..." The anger was gone from his voice. He sighed, and dropped his hand again, looking up back at Murdock. "It is not worth _dying_ over. And, Jesus, I mean... Why do you think we _came _here? I fully intended that we'd..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "But not like this. We leave together, we _stay _together. That's part of the deal."

Murdock sighed, and raised his head again, but didn't look at Face. "Right," he said under his breath.

"You _can't _just wander off like that," Face continued. "By all means, _get _a whore. Get two or three of them, but just..."

He didn't finish. Murdock slowly drew his eyes up to Face's and offered a small, humorless smile. "Sorry, Face. I get it now. We get to all be in the same room while we fuck whores." He pushed off the wall. "You know what? Forget it. Fucky fucky isn't what I want anyways."

Face's jaw twitched as he shut his eyes, lowering his head a fraction. "What do you want me to say, Murdock? This whole goddamn country is an active combat zone."

Murdock nodded to the door. "Can I go now, Face? Or is there something else?"

Face stepped aside, not hesitating. Murdock opened the door and stepped out. He was halfway down the hall before Face stepped out after him. "Murdock, wait."

He stopped without turning, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He could feel the hesitation. Finally, Face came closer, tapping his shoulder as he walked past with a determined step. "Come on. I got an idea."

***X*X*X***

** I knew Face had friends. He always had friends, no matter where we went. The man collected them, sort of the same way that he collected favors. He always had a few of those lying around, too. He knew people from all walks of life – men and women, the wealthy and the desperate, the prestigious and the ill-reputed. I never knew, but always assumed, that he had a wide selection of women in Vietnam. Nurses, prostitutes, random store shop owners. There was no telling how many women he'd bedded. I knew they were all "friends." But I never knew he had friends like her.**

***X*X*X***

The walk through the streets of Saigon, all the way to the French quarter, was long and silent. There, Face turned into a dark, crowded bar. "Go get a drink," he said offhandedly. "I'll join you in a minute."

Without a word, Murdock walked to an empty bar stool and sat down. Wherever Face went (Murdock lost track of him within the first few minutes) he didn't return for almost an hour. It was enough time for Murdock to regain a buzz, but he wasn't terribly interested in drinking. He wasn't interested in anything. He should've just gone back to the base and gone to bed. Anything would've been better than sitting here in the dark, pheromone-saturated bar and thinking.

A gentle hand on the back of his neck, a woman's fingers, startled him. "[I hear you're a pilot,]" a soft voice said, in Vietnamese. He turned, and suddenly found himself face to face with a young Vietnamese girl. She circled to stand beside him, not taking her hand from his shoulder. With her other hand, she reached for the bottle and poured him another shot.

Well aware that she wouldn't have assumed he spoke anything but English without being told, he answered her hesitantly. "[Where would you hear a thing like that?]"

She smiled softly as she set the bottle back down and handed him the glass, letting her fingers brush his a bit longer than strictly necessary. "[We have a mutual friend,]" she said quietly, gently. Her smile was both shy and confident at once. "[My name is Sue.]"

"Ah, a mutual friend." He didn't need three guesses. A quick glance around the room put Face against the wall next to the hallway leaning to the back door with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. He raised it as he caught Murdock's eye, and smiled his approval. Murdock turned back to the girl beside him. "[Well Sue, You can call me HM. It's a pleasure to meet you.]"

"[And you.]"

"[Here's to mutual friends.]" He downed the shot without taking his eyes from hers.

She smiled softly. "[He's a good friend, no?]" She poured another shot and leaned on the bar with her chin in her palm, an almost-lazy smile on her face.

Murdock lowered his eyes, staring down at the glass of clear liquor. "[He's the best friend I've ever had,]" he answered quietly.

She laughed softly, and watched her hand as she reached up to brush his hair back lightly. "[You're cute, you know that?]"

The innocent schoolgirl look suited her well. And she was definitely playing the part for all it was worth. The shy smile, the pose, even her clothes were more modest than what most of the hookers wore. He wondered why. How did Face know her?

"[Do you have a girlfriend?]" she asked. "[Back home?]"

The friendly, forced smile slipped, and he lowered his eyes again. "[I… had a girlfriend. Here. But…]"

She gave him a few seconds after he trailed off, then dropped her hand back into her lap. "[What was her name?]"

He looked up at the impossibly young girl and saw nothing but concern in her eyes. With a soft, almost wistful voice, he answered her. "Lieu Thi Cai." He closed his eyes. Why was it so damn hard to say her name? "[Her name was Cai.]"

A long pause. He looked up and saw Sue smiling faintly, sadly. She lowered her eyes. "[I'm very sorry.]"

Maybe he had had too much to drink. But for some odd reason, he actually believed her. "[It's alright.]"

She watched him for a long moment, and tipped her head slightly. "[You miss her,]" she said quietly. "[That makes it not feel alright.]"

He stared at her in frank shock. He hadn't been sure what to expect when the girl came over, but understanding was not it. "_Co_," he finally answered.

She smiled, and reached up to brush her fingers through his hair again. "[Well... I am not her.]" Her voice lowered to a whisper, hesitating, eyes searching him. "[But maybe I can take your mind off of her for a while.]"

Murdock let out an involuntary, humorless laugh. "[I tried that. It didn't work so well.]" And he was not about to risk another repeat of the earlier disaster.

She smiled faintly, raking her nails lightly over his scalp. "[What did you try?]"

He sputtered a bit, not sure what to say to that. He could feel his face heat up. "[Um… Look, I'm no good at this.]"

Her smile turned a little more genuine as she slid her hand back into his hair and pulled him forward slightly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. It was soft and comforting, and she left her lips against his brow as she whispered quietly. "[Nobody's good at hurting, HM.]"

That was not the response he'd expected, and he wasn't prepared for it. He sucked in a breath as his chest tightened. Where the hell had she learned lines like that? How absurd was it to find understanding and comfort with a teenage hooker in Vietnam? He was torn between crying and laughing. Instead of giving in to either, he closed his eyes as he let the feelings wash over him - too many to process.

She tipped her head down, nuzzling cheek to cheek with him on the way down until her lips finally brushed his. She kissed him slowly, deeply, and he returned it. "[You want to go someplace more private? Your friend gave me these.]" She held up a set of room keys. "[If you want...]"

Murdock looked at the keys and then back at her. His whole body tingled with conflicting emotions. He couldn't take another failure like earlier. But he was tired of being alone, lonely. What was she really offering him? He took a moment to look into her eyes. _Face sent her. You can trust Face._

Finally, with a deep breath, he stood up and offered Sue his arm.

***X*X*X***

** I don't think Face had a clue, back then, what friendship was all about. He was always very solitary, like he didn't need anyone. I remember that night as being the first time I got to see underneath that cold exterior. He might not have needed me, at least not the way I needed him. But that night, I knew that he was the closest thing I'd ever had to a friend.**


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

** I was never really good at romantic lines. It wasn't that I was shy, it just didn't come naturally for me. I guess that's kind of funny to say now, because I've definitely learned as I've gotten older how to make those lines work for me. But back then, it was hard. I didn't lack confidence, or know-how. I lacked... commitment. It hadn't been that long ago that I'd lost my first love to a bombing that my own Army did. It had been a miscommunication; the village was supposed to have been evacuated. But it sure as hell didn't make it any easier to watch. And I never wanted to go through that again. So even though I wanted that kind of love - the love I felt with Cai - I was too scared to get that close to a woman again. Because I knew that in a flash, it could all be gone. And then all that time and effort and **_**love **_**you invested into that woman was just gone. Like vapor. **

***X*X*X***

Murdock couldn't hide the nervous tension he was feeling. Here he was in another motel room with another girl. This one was looking at him with infinite patience, but he wasn't stupid. Once burned and twice shy, he hesitated near the door. What was he doing here?

"HM," she said quietly, holding out a hand to him. "[Come here.]"

What choice did he have? He couldn't very well just stand here by the door all night. He took a few hesitant steps forward and placed his hand in hers.

"[Relax,]" she whispered. "[It's okay. Whatever you want to do, it's okay. I won't judge you.]"

Did she mean that? What did it really mean if she meant that? With a deep breath, he knelt down on the floor in front of her and reached up to carefully stroke the side of her face. He searched her eyes, not even sure what he was looking for. But what he found was warm and comfortable. Slowly, he worked up his nerve, took a desperate chance, and leaned in to kiss her.

She squeezed his hand as she returned it, letting him set the pace. Suddenly, he could feel something inside of him spark to life as the barest tips of his fingers touched that elusive thing he needed. She had it. She could make him feel.

Her hands moved slowly to his shoulders, and she stroked her fingers lightly along his neck. She was smiling as she slowly pulled away. "[You're very good at that.]"

He smiled at her words and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. "Thank you**.**"

Very slowly, he slid his hand back, into her hair. She smiled, and tipped her head away as he leaned down, softly kissing her exposed neck. His other hand left the bed and stroked slowly down her side. Slowly, carefully, he slid his hand beneath her shirt and moved it up, across her soft, warm skin, stopping when he reached her breast.

"HM?"

The combination of the warmth of her body and the sound of his name on her lips caused him to shiver slightly. "_Co_?" he whispered, between kisses.

"[Are you okay?]"

He nodded slightly and hummed a quiet response.

She tipped her head down, and caught his chin with her fingers, raising his eyes to hers. He was drawn into her gaze as she searched him quietly, deeply, sliding her fingers along his jaw all the way up to his ear. Her fingers left a trail of electricity across his skin. She smiled, and leaned down, drawing his lips up to hers and kissing him slowly. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He didn't want it to stop. Ever.

She slowly rose to her feet, pulling him with her, and her hands slowly worked at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it free from his pants. Gentle fingers made their way to the top button and slowly worked down. "[What do you want, HM]?"

It was déjà vu. And at the same time, it was drastically different. This time, it was not the voice of someone waiting for an order to be placed. She sounded like she genuinely cared. He licked his lips slowly, uncertainly, watching her. What did he want? His jaw worked back and forth as he struggled to find the words in the middle of the maelstrom of emotions.

"[I want...]" Deep breath. He let it out slow. "[Right now all I want is you.]"

"[Why?]" She slowly worked down the buttons, watching his eyes. Her voice was soft and gentle, and it matched her smile. "[You don't know me. And if all you wanted was to fuck, you didn't have to come all the way to this side of town to do that.]"

He winced. Her tone wasn't confrontational, wasn't a demand. But the words themselves made something ache inside of him. She smiled at the hesitation, and lowered her eyes shyly.

"[Of course, you don't have to tell me,]" she whispered. "[But I can't help you unless you do.]"

Suddenly, he couldn't stop the worlds from tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. He could only hope he was putting them together in the right order in the foreign language. "[I want someone who wants me or can pretend – just _pretend_ - to care, to feel. I can't be alone with me anymore. I want you because you meant it when you said sorry. And Face trusts you. And you're actually being nice and I know that's just plain crazy out here. And I just don't want to think anymore.]"

He was slightly out of breath as he finished, and he shut his eyes hard. _Damn it, why can't I just keep my mouth shut?_

Her fingers had come to a stop halfway down his shirt. She was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, she raised both hands on either side of his face, rubbing his cheekbones with her thumbs, back and forth slowly.

"[I do care.]"

His heart was pounding against his chest. He opened his eyes as she spoke words that were like magic. She slid her hands back into his hair.

"[And you don't have to think.]" She leaned forward, letting her lips brush his as she spoke. "[Just relax. Let me take care of you, HM. You sound like you need it.]"

He focused on the words, repeating them in his mind over and over until he felt himself slowly relax into her. "Please…"

She kissed him lightly as she finished with the buttons on his shirt, then pushed it back. As it fell, she took a step back, out of his reach. He watched her as she pulled her shirt up over her head and dropped it on the floor at her feet. Her hands moved to her skirt, and she unhooked the back of it, letting it fall off her hips and down her long legs. Still watching him, she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging her shoulders, and stood naked and exposed just a few feet in front of him, her shy smile and curious eyes screaming vulnerability, and uncertainty, and more than any of that... trust.

The look sent a thrill through him. He reached out and gently stroked her arms, starting at her shoulders and lightly working down. He kissed her bare shoulders and neck, hands still on her arms, feeling his breathing deepen.

"[Let me see you,]" he whispered.

Slowly, hesitantly, she lowered her arms to her sides. He took a slight step back. The sight of her beautiful, naked body took his breath away. He drew her close to him again, wrapping his arms protectively around her, and pressed his face into her hair. "Thank you," he whispered.

She took a step back, drawing him towards the bed as she slid her hands up to his shoulders, beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt, massaging lightly. As he stepped with her, his hand worked its way down her side, stopping briefly at her hip. He looked in her eyes before going any further, but he saw only trust and openness.

His hand moved slowly in between her thighs, and she parted them for him, holding his shoulders for balance. She let out a soft moan as he entered her with his finger, stroking her wetness. At the sound of it, he almost came undone. She tipped her head back, and his mouth dropped to her exposed neck, leaving a trail of soft love bites.

"[You are so beautiful,]" he managed between rapidly increasing breaths.

She leaned further, drawing him back towards the bed. Once she reached the edge of it, she dropped her head forward again, bringing her lips to the side of his neck.

"[You are very handsome.]" She nipped at his earlobe as she found the bottom of his T-shirt. "[I want to see more of you.]"

She was like an angel – her experience evident but still overshadowed by her innocence. His eyes never left her, afraid that if he looked a way she might disappear. For almost an hour, she said everything right, did everything perfectly. The feeling of her surrounding him was all encompassing. The two of them were all that existed in the world at that moment. Every moan, movement, smell increased the sensations until he was nothing but feeling as his body gave in to a rhythm as old as time.

As he finally slowed, tired and satisfied, she settled on her back and guided his head to her shoulder, reaching across to stroke the side of his face.

"You okay?"

He closed his eyes and listened to her heartbeat in his ear. Her skin was soft and warm under him, her hand reassuring on his cheek. He was here, alive. He took a deep breath, her scent filling his nostrils.

"I am now," he answered softly. He took a moment to run his hands over her. He was not alone for tonight, and that was enough for now. He briefly turned his head and kissed the slight swell of her breast, just above her heart. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She held him close to her, gently stroking her fingers along his jaw. "[Rest, HM. Everything's going to be okay.]"

He relaxed into her soft warmth, momentarily content as he felt himself floating into sleep. Right now, he was more than willing to believe her beautiful lie.

***X*X*X***

** It wasn't real love, or anything like it. I knew that, and I didn't care. It was real enough to let me feel, to make it possible to believe the lie that it was real, if that makes sense. And really, that was the best thing all the way around. Really loving somebody, in a situation like that, could only lead to heartbreak. I'd learned that lesson already. I didn't want to really be in love. I just wanted to have someone to make the pain go away, just for a few minutes. And falling asleep in her arms was enough. It was everything I could've asked for.**

***X*X*X***

The light knock on the door was almost inaudible, and it was followed only by silence and Murdock's soft snoring. Slowly, Sue pulled the blanket up around him as she slipped away carefully, rising to her feet. She padded softly through the dark room to the door and opened it just a crack, then wider as she saw who it was. She'd been expecting him.

"{Sorry,}" Face offered quietly, in French. "{I gotta take him home. Our CO will worry if we're not back by morning.}"

She smiled. "{He's asleep.}"

Face nodded. "{I didn't figure he would've lasted four hours.}"

Face cast a glance towards the figure sleeping soundly beneath the sheets, and yawned soundlessly, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "{You're drunk,}" Sue whispered.

"{More like hung over.}" He gave her a slight smile. "{I fell asleep in the bar.}"

"Sorry." She crouched down to grab her clothes. "{I knew you would be waiting. But I didn't have the heart to wake him.}"

"{It's alright. I'll take care of him.}"

She could feel his eyes on her as she redressed, but she didn't mind. As she finished, she shook her hair out and turned to see him holding several bills out to her, between his fingers. She didn't count it; she didn't need to. He'd always paid her well.

"_Merci_."

He nodded.

She studied him curiously for a moment. "{You know, it's funny.}"

"{What's funny?}"

"{The way you talk about him, I never would've imagined you to be such good friends.}"

Face smiled at her. "{I hardly ever talk about him.}"

"{Enough that I knew who he was.}"

Face shrugged, a nervous shift in his shoulders. "{Let's just say that I…}" He hesitated, too long. "{I empathize. And anyways, it gave me an excuse to come see you.}"

She smiled. "{Will I see you again soon?}"

"Count on it."


	5. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**2.2k**

** It was kind of like being in love, where it's all you can think about. I remember feeling it with you, come to think of it. When all I wanted was to hear your voice, see your face, feel your skin. But it was different, too. It wasn't quite the same, with Sue. I wasn't in love with her. I knew she didn't care about me, as a person. She was just doing her job. But she was so damn good at it. She understood, somehow, that it wasn't about the sex. It was about the feeling. And if it wasn't real, so what? I was fine with make believe. **

** I had to see her again. It was like the will to live, to breathe. She was something **_**good **_**in that war-torn place. I had to feel that again. I must have driven Face nuts.**

***X*X*X***

Face had just showered - a few last moments of enjoyment before their initial briefing. The sun hadn't even been up when Hannibal had dragged them out of bed for some impromptu PT - just to satisfy his sadistic urge. Sometimes Face really thought he just got a thrill out of making them suffer, especially at oh-six-hundred. He certainly hadn't been _that _interested in the layout of the base that he needed to take them all for a jog around the entire fucking perimeter of it.

They had only another hour - not enough time for a nap - before they would sit on Hannibal's initial briefing, then head out to whatever god-forsaken base they would be operating out of. Stand down was over. Time to go back to work. Face sighed, toweling his hair dry and wishing he could stay closer to the running water in Saigon.

"Hi Face, you gotta second?"

A quick glance at Murdock as he bounded into the room told Face that it was very much a rhetorical question. "If I said no, would you be a little less... bouncing?"

He wasn't ready to go back out yet. Five days of stand down and he was still tired. He was definitely not looking forward to plotting another mission with Hannibal. Or the training that would come with it. Or the drop itself. He needed a nap.

"I gotta thank you for introducing me to Sue." He had come to a stop, but he wasn't able to stand still for long. "She's real special. Where did you two meet?"

"Bar." It was the only answer Face gave, grabbing his clothes and sitting down on the bench to put them on. Semi-clean fatigues. The last ones had finally been ruined on the last drop. He'd put on clothes that hadn't been washed in weeks, but once there was blood on them, that was it. No more.

"What is it about her?" Murdock asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean she's just _different_. It's like she cares."

"She doesn't care. She's just good at her job." Face paused only briefly and looked up at him. "You got your chopper fueled? I think we're leaving pretty soon."

"My bird's been ready to go since oh-five-hundred."

Face sighed. So much for that attempt. Murdock did seem pretty easily distractible right now, and Face was all for sending him into a series of chores that would preoccupy him until they were closer to leaving. He just needed to find the right distraction.

Murdock leaned his lanky frame back against the flimsy wall. "How can I get a hold of her? You know, if I want to see her again?"

Face rolled his eyes. "Murdock, give it a rest." He stood, pulling the pants up over his hips and glaring at Murdock as he buttoned them. "You had a good time. I'm glad. That was the point. Now move on."

The grin curled up the sides of Murdock's mouth even further. "Not a good time. A _great _time."

Face grabbed his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. He was dreading the thought of being up in a helicopter with this pilot for a surveillance fly over. Hopefully Hannibal would do that himself this time. Face was just not in the mood for the constant stream of happiness.

Suddenly, Murdock seemed to notice that he wasn't joining in on the festivities. "Oh, hey, are you two serious?"

Face shot him a funny look. "Huh?" What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"Well, you know, if you see her a lot. I don't wanna, you know, be in the way. Do you see her a lot? 'Cause I don' wanna cause problems with that. Not after everything you're done for me."

Face's eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him. "She's a whore, Murdock. Not a girlfriend. You _do _know that I paid her for last night, right?" He wasn't sure why he'd felt it necessary to say that. But maybe it would dampen the pilot's mood a little bit. Take some of that energy out of his voice.

"Yeah, I do, and thanks, Face. Hooking me up with her was the nicest thing anyone has done for me."

Face growled under his breath. Murdock was bouncing again. _Not _the desired effect. Leaving his top shirt unbuttoned, he sat down again and reached for his boots. "Just don't get used to it."

"Hey, why _did _you do that for me, anyways?"

"Because you were just too pathetic to watch. You wear your fucking heart on your sleeve, you know that?"

"Good a place as any for it." He went back to leaning against the wall, his foot tapping in time with a silent beat. "I wonder how she got to be so unique?"

Face rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, covering his eyes with his hand. "Murdock, _please_ don't tell me you have a crush on the hooker. 'Cause I swear to God, you're gonna make me crazy if you don't shut up about her."

Murdock stopped moving and gave Face an amused look. "A crush?" he laughed again. "No man, I haven't had a crush since fourth grade - Mary Louise Harper. Turns out she only wanted my milk money."

Face sighed. He wasn't going to be able to shut him up. He was fairly certain of that.

"Sue just makes you enjoy being alive. Like there's something still worth..." He shook his head as he trailed off. "Never mind, Face. Words aren't my bag. But you don't have to worry about my heart. I just wanna have a good time."

"I'm not worried about your heart. I'm worried about my sanity."

"How can I get a hold of her?"

Finished with his boots, he stood and pushed past Murdock, heading for the door. He fully expected to be followed. "You got all your shit out of your locker? 'Cause I'm pretty sure we're about to head out."

"Come on, Faceman, I told ya I been ready since this morning." Murdock's long legs made it easy to catch up and then keep pace alongside him. "How long have you known her? Can I always find her at the bar we were at last night?"

"Murdock!" Face pulled up short, stopping so fast that the pilot almost ran into him. He spun back around. "Look. It doesn't matter, okay? We're _leaving _Saigon remember? And _if _we come back, _if _we live through this, you can ask me again when it does matter."

He was well aware that he was solving nothing with that. He was just putting it off, setting himself up to have this same damn conversation again. But if nothing else, Murdock seemed to finally register that Face was on edge.

"No problem, Faceman." He clapped Face on the shoulder. "And thanks again."

Face glared back. "Right."

Murdock gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before he turned and jogged off towards the rest of the team, calling, "Hey, BA, wait up!"

Face watched him go, and sighed as he shook his head, turning in the opposite direction.

***X*X*X***

** From that point on, I had a place to go. A home, of sorts. People say home is where the heart is, and in that sense, my home is and was always with the team. But there's something to be said for having an actual place - a city, a town - that you can say "this is home." A place where, when you visit it, you can say, "I'm going home for the weekend." **

** Not that I ever said that. Nobody would've understood. It does strike me as kind of funny that nobody else on the team seems to feel that. If anything, they all seem to make a point of running from home. Maybe with the exception of BA, but he doesn't push for a chance to visit, either. I needed a home base. When I first went to Southeast Asia, it was Nha Trang. When that ended…**

** I'm getting off track. It's not important anyways. The point is, Saigon was on my mind every time I had a chance to escape. That didn't go away. For several months, it was the one thing that was a constant.**

**MAY 1970**

Hannibal was in the commo bunker with Boston. He'd relayed the initial debriefing to Westman, and would be on his way in the next few hours to Da Nang, to give a formal one. Then they'd be on stand down for a few much-needed days. The "good job" was unspoken, but they were all feeling it. That, and the relief of being back on base, out of the jungle.

Face and BA were already sound asleep. They'd probably sleep for at least a day or two. Boston clapped Hannibal's shoulder before he turned away, finishing his beer as he headed for the hootch to join them. He looked like hell. So did Hannibal. But Hannibal was still feeling the residual adrenaline. He could go for hours more...

Murdock was humming softly when he opened the door to the command bunker. Damned if he wasn't wide awake. Hannibal shook his head slightly as he considered it. Did that pilot _ever _get tired?

"Colonel," he greeted with a smile, hands behind his back.

"Captain." Hannibal gave an answering nod. "Nice flying today."

Their options for extraction had been less than optimal. And it was a relief to know that no matter what, that chopper would either pick them up, or go down in flames trying. Not that Hannibal ever wanted to see flames…

"Thanks. Can I ask you a favor, Colonel?"

"Sure. What can I do for you?"

Murdock shifted his weight and put his hands behind his back once more. "Since we are going to be on stand down for a couple days, I was hoping for a pass to Saigon."

Hannibal glanced up at that, and raised a brow. That was unexpected. And the look in Murdock's eyes was a dead giveaway that there was something – maybe someone – he was going to see.

A smile crossed Hannibal's face as he put his pen down and leaned back, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "Saigon? You usually want to go up to Nha Trang."

"Yes, sir."

It was the tried and true military answer that said as little as possible. Hannibal smiled at the non-response. It wasn't that he really felt a need to know. He'd had almost no problems with Murdock on stand down. And what problems he _had_ faced were a result of boredom more than anything. He didn't have a problem with a pass to Saigon. But he couldn't hide his curiosity.

"So what's in Saigon?"

Murdock reconsidered his approach. If a non-answer didn't work, perhaps a vague one would. "Lots of things to keep hyperactive pilot type people busy for a few days."

Hannibal didn't speak. He just raised a brow in expectation of a more complete answer, and watched Murdock sigh as he realized he was going to spill, one way or another. He'd never been any good at keeping secrets. Hannibal wasn't even sure why he tried. Maybe he just wasn't used to anyone being interested.

"There's no reason for me to go to Nha Trang anymore," he said quietly. "My brother was there, and he's not anymore. But there is someone in Saigon I'd like to go see."

"This someone got a name?"

"Yes, it's… ah…" Murdock squirmed. "Sue, Colonel. Her name is Sue."

Hannibal chuckled, and reached for the beer that he had on the table in front of him. "Captain, I think that's the first time I've ever seen you blush."

"Oh. Well." Murdock's head lowered. "It's not that unusual, really."

Hannibal took a drink, set the can back down with a smile, and glanced at the paperwork he still had to finish before he could take a nap and head to see Westman. "Would it harm your plans terribly to take someone with you?"

The implication, of course, was that he would have to wait until they were awake enough to move. But even so, he didn't seem at all unhappy with that solution. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear. "No problem, Colonel."

As Hannibal watched him go, like an overexcited kid on Christmas morning, he couldn't help but smile. Sometimes he really forgot just how young these boys actually were.


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

** I suppose you're wondering why I'm telling you all this. I guess I'm kind of wondering that, too. It's stuff I haven't thought about for years. But it's important. It's incredibly important if you're going to understand where I'm coming from with all of this. You have to understand what Sue meant to me, in a world where beautiful things like friendship and love – even pretend love – weren't allowed to exist. You have to understand why I was drawn to her. And why, when I was weakest and most vulnerable, she was a comfortable place to let go. I didn't love her. Not the way I'd loved Cai before her and certainly not the way I loved you. But it was never about love, with us. It was about safety and comfort and finding something worthwhile in a world that was meaningless and cold. **

** Maybe that's part of why she's wandered into my thoughts from time to time since I've been in Virginia. Even without the blood and gore, this world I live in now is a lot like Vietnam. No one to count on but the team. Suicide missions and secrecy. I can't even tell you what we were actually doing, or even what country we were in, when this all started a few weeks ago. It's all "classified." **

** Nothing I can write could really capture how much I hate that word.**

**SEPTEMBER, 1986**

"Murdock!"

Jolted out of his thoughts by Face's rude awakening, he blinked a few times, looking around the inside of the Stockwell's plane. "Huh?"

"You okay?" Rhetorical question. "Come on; let's go."

Murdock stood, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he followed Face to the steps and down to the tarmac of the Russian airport. For a few minutes, he served as translator, checking passports and clarifying the nature of their "business trip" from whatever random country they'd chosen this time. He didn't even bother checking anymore. The routine was old, and mindless. Two months in Stockwell's employ, and he could do this in his sleep. It was efficient, but it lacked finesse. Every time he stepped off of this jet, he found himself wishing for those days when they'd been the ones in charge of their own missions, having fun and helping people instead of following orders and serving an egotistical, power hungry, manipulative –

"Murdock, you alright?" Hannibal's question wasn't rhetorical. He was actually waiting for an answer.

Murdock forced a smile. "A-okay, Colonel."

He put a hand on Murdock's shoulder as they walked away from the plane. "What's on your mind, Captain?"

Murdock sighed, buried his hands deeper, and shook his head. He stared at the ground as he walked, trying to gather his thoughts. "I want to go home."

"Home?" Hannibal chuckled. "We just got here."

"No, _not _Virginia." Home was distinctly _not _Virginia. It wasn't anywhere within a thousand miles of Stockwell. "That's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?"

Murdock frowned deeply. "It's kind of funny. I think I'm actually homesick." He glanced up at Hannibal, as if he could not only understand, but explain. "I never felt like this. Even in the Army, it never made too much difference 'cause I knew I'd never go back where I grew up. But… I want to go back to LA."

Hannibal smiled faintly, almost sadly. "LA is home."

Murdock's brow furrowed. "I mean, I lived in the nut house there. How can I miss that?"

"It was still home."

"Yeah." Murdock's tone lost all hint of anything but dark seriousness. "Funny how I felt less like a prisoner _there _than in my apartment now."

Hannibal paused for a moment. "I think we're all a little homesick at this point," he finally said. "I was thinking when we take this plane back, we stash it somewhere in LA. What do you think?"

"Do you mean that, Colonel?" Murdock's eyes seemed to light up at the thought, but only for a second. Then they clouded over again. He jammed his balled hands deeper into his pockets. "Can you even promise that without talking to Stockwell? He might have more errands for us."

Hannibal chuckled – whether at the question or the fact that Murdock spoke Stockwell's name like he was some dreaded disease, he wasn't sure. "Stockwell can only control what he knows about. As soon as we tell him we're back, I'm sure he'll be on his way from Virginia, wanting to get his hands on that jet. But until he knows about it..."

Murdock wasn't shocked to see Hannibal laugh at Stockwell. But he didn't find it funny.

"It should take at least a night for the news to hit the press. We'll call him in the morning."

Murdock sighed. He could feel Hannibal's eyes on him, waiting for a response. But Murdock had nothing to say. Stockwell knew about damn near everything. They didn't even know how he knew half of it. What were the chances they'd actually escape his notice if they stopped for a few days in LA?

"You know, Captain, he doesn't have anything on you." Hannibal's tone, like his expression, was impossible to read. Whether it was a suggestion, a reprimand, a question, or just a reminder, it wasn't clear.

"He has you, Face, and BA. He has everything on me."

Hannibal smiled knowingly and cast a glance towards Face and BA, who were still walking ahead of them. After a moment, he started after them again, at a leisurely pace. "Then you're in it for the long haul, Murdock. You were on voluntary indefinite status in Vietnam. Think of this the same way. Because I'm afraid I can't give you a countdown to DEROS."

"I know." He paused. "I just don't trust Stockwell. Simple as that."

"That's because he's not trustworthy – in any sense of the word. But either way, it's not like we have a whole lot of choice at this point. Unless we want to take up residence in another country, and that won't help with the whole homesick thing."

Murdock considered that quietly for a moment. He wasn't sure just how much law enforcement at large knew about the team's escape from the firing squad. He knew the escape had never hit the newspapers. Just one more thing Stockwell had over their heads, in his control, that they had no certainty about. With that murder conviction, and the escape, they could well be hunted for the rest of their lives if they didn't keep playing this damn game.

"When this is over, we'll stash the plane in LA," Hannibal said again. "I'll give Stockwell a call when it's late enough that he won't leave 'til morning. We can meet back up in the morning and be ready for him when he shows up. I suspect we'd even be able to get a dinner in that evening. Maybe Kelly would like to join us."

The grin that Murdock broke into was impossibly huge. It almost made his face hurt. "You mean that, Colonel?"

"I don't see why not."

"That would be a big help in showing Kelly that I ain't hallucinating you guys, you know? And we could celebrate her birthday. Maybe I can get a cake she likes."

"Hallucinating us?" Hannibal chuckled.

"Yeah, well, I do kinda have a history of doing that sort of thing. But once she see you guys, it will be fine." He paused only briefly. All thoughts of Stockwell, homesickness, and misery were suddenly gone. "Do you think she would like that Italian place over by Long Beach? The one we went to that one time with Face?"

"We'll worry about it when we get there. For now, let's get this show on the road, huh?"

Murdock's smile remained in place as he followed a half step behind Hannibal. Suddenly this mission had just gotten a whole lot less miserable.

***X*X*X***

** I guess, in a way, it was almost vindictive. But not in a way that was meant to hurt. I know you never believed me about the guys, that they were alive. I know you didn't understand why I'd gone to Virginia, and I knew that put this big wall between us. I think we could've been okay, even with a long distance relationship. But it was the fact that you didn't believe me. I don't know why you thought I'd left you. And if you thought it was for any reason other than the team, I can see how you'd be confused. I thought maybe if you saw them, if I could prove it to you, everything would be better between us. And I really, really wanted everything to be better between us.**

** I really wanted **_**you**_**.**

***X*X*X***

All the way to the hotel, Murdock was smiling. The smile fell before they got to their respective rooms. By the time they'd reviewed the plan and agreed that a good night's sleep was needed before anything was attempted, Murdock was lost in his thoughts again.

The walls of the hotel room were closing in. Murdock stood at the window, tapping on the pane, wishing for freedom. But for the moment, he was stuck here. Stuck with too much time to think and not enough focus to think about the things that should have been important. They were in Russia for a reason. But he couldn't seem to focus on that, no matter how hard he tried. The only thing he could think about was how much he didn't want to be here right now.

"You should call her."

Murdock turned away from the window and stared blankly at Face. "Huh?"

He hadn't realized he was being watched. But from the expression, he guessed Face had been studying him for some time. Pushing off of the hotel room dresser, Face uncrossed his arms and legs and shrugged as he walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it.

"I said you should call her."

"Call who?"

Face laughed. "Give me a break, Murdock. I'm not a complete idiot."

Murdock studied him for a long moment, then frowned as he turned away again, staring out the window at the slowly setting sun. He sighed deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as he crossed his arms over his chest.

He hesitated, thinking over his words for a long moment. A quick glance over his shoulder received a wordless question from Face - raised brows and an expectant look. Murdock covered his face with his hand.

"We are about to steal a top secret stealth bomber from a military installation in a hostile country, the three of you don't even speak Russian and I've never so much as seen this plane and can only hope that the gauges are actually marked and that they make sense…" He sighed deeply. "And all I can think about is the fact that I'm missing Kelly's birthday."

Face's gaze was steady. The lack of response in and of itself was enough to tell him what Face thought of that. His shoulders sagged as he walked to the bed and flopped down on the edge of it, holding his head in his hands.

After a long silence, Face finally responded. "You're really worried about flying that plane?"

Murdock couldn't explain why the question made him so quickly and deeply irritated. But he looked up and glared at Face.

Face simply shrugged it off. "You're the one who's always said all planes fly the same. I've never once seen you worried about flying _anything_ – much less a fighter jet."

Murdock's eyes narrowed further. "It's not a fighter jet, it's a bomber. Big difference."

"Whatever." Face shrugged again, nonchalant.

Murdock growled his frustration as he fell back on the bed, covering his face with both hands. Another lengthy silence, and he heard Face sigh. "So call her, Murdock. What's the problem?"

"I can't."

"Why not? It's mid-afternoon over there."

"It's not that."

"Then what?" Face didn't give him a chance to reply. "Charge it to room service. What's Stockwell going to say about it?"

Murdock sighed.

"Even if he did say something, so what? He's got nothing on you. He needs you more than you need him." He paused briefly. "Hell, how would we even do this mission without you?"

Murdock left one hand covering his eyes as he dropped the other to his side. "It's not Stockwell."  
"Fine. So pick up the phone. I'm tired of seeing you stare out the window like she just _died_, Murdock. She's on the other end of the line. Call her."

"And tell her what?" Irritated by Face's persistence, Murdock sat up again and glared at him. "'Hi honey, I miss you. Oh, sorry, gotta go rob a Russian military base of a top secret aircraft. If they don't shoot me, I'll be home in time for cake.'"

Face frowned at the sarcasm. "We've been getting shot at for years, Murdock. Never made you think twice before."

"Yeah. Shot at by extortionists and, and… hired muscle that couldn't shoot the broad side of a barn half the time."

"And the military police… and the civilian police… and the occasional rogue bounty hunter… and –"

"Face," Murdock interrupted, "this is the Russian _military_. They're not our guys. We're going to steal their plane and cause an international incident and that's the best case scenario!"

Face sat down in the chair across from Murdock, folding his hands in his lap with an exceedingly patient look. "Murdock." His voice matched the expression, but it was also firm. "You and I both know that you have no problem – whether moral or fearful – with stealing this plane. So what's the problem?"

Murdock stared at him. The words made him think for a long moment. Face was right; stealing this plane was just another day in the office when it came right down to it. He was also right in that Murdock didn't even have to be here. He chose to be. So what _was _the problem?

Murdock looked away with a deep sigh. "How do you do it, Face?"

"Do what?"

"You haven't seen Jessica in longer than I haven't seen Kelly." He glanced back up and winced at the painful honesty as it tumbled out of his mouth. "And I miss her. I miss… the way it was. A lot."

Face was watching him steadily, seriously. After a long moment, he finally answered, his voice low. "I don't think about it."

Murdock looked away, stood, paced back to the window. His problem was not Face's problem. It was his to carry, and dumping it on Face wasn't fair or right. Besides that, it wasn't particularly helpful. The things that worked for Face almost never worked for him. They were two very different people.

He didn't say a word as he leaned forward, forehead on his arm. He wished like hell that he knew exactly how much longer this was going to go on. He needed to know. If only so that he could steel himself for it. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.


	7. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

"She's a beauty, Colonel." Murdock's eyes ran over the gauges one last time. "I'm gon' treat her like the proud lady she is."

He'd flown more difficult aircraft than this, he was sure. Some of the planes Face had scammed were a hell of a lot more dangerous, part for part. This was top of the line, freshly built and cleanly oiled. If he didn't know what all the gadgets did, that was fine with him. He just wouldn't mess with those particular gadgets.

He was off the runway in a few short minutes. The memories kicked in with the afterburners, and an involuntary smile crossed his lips. It had been a long time since he'd flown a jet like this. But once upon a time, he'd done it daily. The pressure on his chest, muscles rigid to keep from losing his grip on the controls… deep slow breaths of oxygen. Definitely familiar.

It wasn't long before he was flying blind, across the ocean. He couldn't very well stay in contact with traffic control while stealing a military aircraft. That being the case, there was no telling what he'd encounter if he flew at a normal altitude. Besides, he needed to stay under the radar. But that meant he was also under the clouds. Without even the moon as a guide, he was flying strictly by the instruments. Thank God for a good full night's sleep before they'd sprung this mission. One slip at this speed, this close to the water's surface, and this plane would hit the ocean like a brick wall, in a fiery blaze of glory. He almost smiled at the thought. Wouldn't that just piss Stockwell off…

He sighed deeply. His eyes were on the gauges, but his mind was elsewhere. He was regretting the fact that he hadn't called Kelly. It had seemed like a bad idea at the time. He couldn't think of what he would've said to her besides, "I miss you; happy birthday; wish I was there but I'm not." But maybe that was just selfish and insensitive of him. Because he wanted to avoid the awkward conversation, he hadn't even called her on her birthday. Damn it, he was pretty sure that counted as a screw up on some level.

He checked his watch. At this pace, he should be in LA before evening. He was heading east, into the new day, at breakneck speed. He would have just enough time to stash the plane – Hannibal had already picked out a place – get a rental car, and make the two hour drive to Kelly's. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could catch her before she went to bed.

***X*X*X***

** I missed you so much. I thought about you all the time. But when you answered that door and I saw you standing there, it was somewhere between winning the lottery and watching someone die in your arms. There was so much emotion, and no place for it to go. You smiled, but it wasn't real. And I knew that right away. I could feel it. I've seen a lot of fake smiles in my lifetime.**

** If I didn't know it then, I knew it later. Making love that night should have been like heaven. But there was something wrong. I don't know if you felt it or if it was just me. But something was just… missing. When I think about it, that something had been missing for a long time. I don't know when it went away, or how, or even what it was. It wasn't the love. I did love you. I **_**do **_**love you. But there was something missing in your eyes when you looked up at me that night. And that something, whatever it is, made all the difference between the fantasies I'd played out in my head, over and over again, and the harsh reality of the fact that something had changed between us when I chose to follow the team.**

*X*X*X*

The sun was low on the horizon, red-orange light filtering through the open window. Murdock watched the shadows play as he breathed slow and deep, staring at the sky through the curtains as he let his mind wander. It had been a long time since he'd flown a jet. Last time he had been able to open up like that and go supersonic, he had been the Air Force's golden boy – the best and the brightest. Every opportunity had been open to him. So much had changed since then…

"I wish you would stay."

Kelly was lying on his chest, quiet and relaxed, fingers stroking his side gently as his hand absently wandered over the smooth skin on her back. He sighed as he shook those thoughts out of his mind. They were oddly depressing, and he chose not to dwell on them. It was enough to know that he could still fly just as well now as he could back then. Maybe even better.

"I wish I could," he whispered back. "I miss you so much."

"Then why don't you stay?"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

He didn't go any further than that. She didn't believe that the team was alive. It was easier, more logical for her to think he had another "break from reality." Murdock couldn't blame her for that. It was crazy, unbelievable, and all she had was his word for it.

_"You're fucking crazy, Mark. And she knows it, too." _

He frowned at the voice in his head, still familiar after all these years. Once it was buried back in its proper place, he leaned towards her and set a light kiss on the top of her hair before stroking his fingers through it. Damn, he really did miss her.

"I don't understand why you won't come back to LA. But then, I don't understand why you left in the first place."

"I know," he sighed.

"You write me letters to tell me you miss me, but you don't have any plans for when you'll be coming back. Where is this... going?"

Everything she was saying was in what she wasn't saying. What she was avoiding. _"__What she is afraid to say around you, nut job."_ There was that damn voice again. _"Probably afraid to set you off. Wouldn't want to end up like Randy now..."_

Now there was a memory he wasn't going to entertain.

Sliding his hand down, he cupped her face and smiled at her tightly. "I _want _to be with you Kelly. And I know this has been confusing and painful and lonely, and I'm sorry. But the guys really are alive and I have to be with them."

"More than you have to be with me?"

Murdock cringed. "Kelly, please don't do this to me."

She sighed, and set her head on his chest again. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, she was quiet. But she couldn't let it go.

"It's just that, I know you think your friends are alive. I know you really _believe _that but –"

"Let's not talk about this," he interrupted.

This wasn't the way or place that he wanted to have this argument. And an argument was exactly what it would become. It wasn't worth it. In fact, it was entirely unnecessary. He knew what he knew. If everything went according to plan, she'd see the team with her own eyes soon enough. But telling her that now, even if he could bank on Stockwell not interfering – which he couldn't – would only deepen her protests. Maybe more importantly, it would make her feel like a complete fool when she was wrong. Murdock wanted to be right – vindicated, even. But he didn't want her uncomfortable and embarrassed.

She sighed audibly. "I just don't know what to say to you, Murdock."

Something about that both hurt and amazed him. She didn't know what to say because she still didn't believe him. In spite of the fact that she was so close to him, lying naked beside him, she thought... what? That he was lying? That he was mistaken? No, she thought he was downright crazy. She'd never say it - not the way she was thinking it. Jokingly, maybe. But never would she actually look him in the eye and tell him he needed to go back to the VA. Still, he wondered if she thought that. He suspected, from the distance that was between them - even while they were physically so close - that she did.

He didn't want to think about why she was here with him when she thought he was that mentally unstable. The answer had too much potential to hurt.

_"Maybe you're a pity fuck, Mark. Her own way of doing charity. You have to know she is way too damn good for you."_

No, that wasn't it. Kelly loved him, he loved her. This distance between them was because of all the chaos and turmoil. Once she saw the guys, it would be fine.

_ "Bullshit."_

No, it _would _be fine. It had to be fine. He trusted Kelly. She was kind and gentle and loving. She wouldn't hurt him and he wouldn't hurt her.

_ "If you trust her then why don't you tell her your secrets?"_

Some things she just didn't need to know. Some things weren't safe for her to know.

_"Like Cai?"_

The taunting came to a screeching halt as he slammed down that barrier in his mind. Cai was off limits, even to the voices in his head.

She sighed again as she pushed herself up so that she could look at him. "It doesn't matter, Murdock," she said quietly. "I'll wait for you. I just… I wish I knew why you were doing this."

"I know." Why couldn't he think of anything more than that to say?

She caressed his jaw lightly. "I love you. I want you with me. But if you won't even tell me what's going on..."

He forced a smile that was entirely fake. "I love you too, Kelly." But he was hurting her and there wasn't a damn thing he could do at the moment to stop that.

He pushed the hair out of her eyes, tucking a piece behind her ear, playing with the silky strands. "Let's not worry about that right now. It will work out, you'll see."

_"__Liar."_

Damn that voice in his head? Why couldn't he get it to shut up?

He couldn't talk about this anymore, and he didn't want to think about it. There was too much there - too much pain, too many places he didn't want to go with her. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to be alone, but he needed to be with her. At any rate, he needed out of this bed.

Forcing himself to smile like he didn't have a care in the world, he moved so that she was lying beside him. He made one last attempt at regaining that warmth, that feeling they used to have, as he kissed her. But it was cold and emotionless – the way he somehow knew it would be.

Finally, he tossed the covers back. "Come on, get up. The night's still young and there's so much I want to do with you. Get dressed. I'm taking you out."

"Out where?" she asked, confused as he bounded out of bed and grabbed his clothes.

"If we hurry, we can make it to the movie theatre by nine. Then we can go anywhere you wanna go to eat." His boxers were already on and he was working on his pants. "Or maybe something classier? Miniature golf? Let's go have some fun, darling."

He raised his brows and held a hand out to her. She hesitated for a long moment before finally taking it. In his head, he was repeating the same lines over and over again – that his sudden urge to go out was about fun and living in the moment. _Carpe diem _and all. But in his heart, he knew the truth. Lying next to her and still being so very far away was just too damn hard to do.

*X*X*X*

** We had a good time that evening. I don't remember what movie it was we saw. I really didn't spend a whole lot of time watching it. In fact, I think I slept through it. Jet lag and all. I do remember afterwards, walking out of the movie theatre with the kids outside selling girl scout cookies at eleven o'clock at night, and thinking what an oxymoron that was. They were good cookies, though. Totally worth it.**

** I still remember seeing you smile. Really smile, like you were really happy. I remember how contagious it was, and how it made me smile, too. The only problem was, as soon as you saw me looking at you, you stopped.**


	8. Chapter Seven

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

** I woke up the next morning in your bed with a hundred things on my mind. I didn't wake you. I probably should have. I probably should've made you breakfast in bed with big fluffy pancakes and hot maple syrup. The problem was, I didn't want to talk. And there was also this corner of my mind that was thinking when you woke up, you'd be relieved if I wasn't there. I guess in the end it's all excuses. It wasn't right for me to leave without saying goodbye.**

** But I did. I slipped out of bed without a sound and stopped just long enough to pet Homer on the way out. I told myself I was planning to see you that night, anyways. And I needed to get to the airport for the guys. Their plane would be coming in shortly.**

*X*X*X*

There was still something instinctively concerning about commercial flights. It was left over from too many years on the run, and a very reasonable fear of enclosed spaces. But they didn't have much of a choice. Murdock had left Russia in the jet, and they needed to be right behind him – not least because the longer they stayed in Russia, the greater their chance of getting caught and arrested. They'd barely made it off of that military base, and they'd certainly been seen while they were there. If not for the fact that they'd timed it perfectly to be on the plane to the US before the airport had a chance to be notified, they might not have gotten out at all.

BA's fear of flying had taken a backseat to his fear of a Russian prison. He was asleep in the seat by the window, and would remain that way until they touched down. Hannibal was good at measuring out the dosage of the sodium pentothal to make it time out just right. They'd need him to walk himself out of this plane if they didn't want to attract unnecessary attention.

Face was on Hannibal's other side. Frankie was on the aisle, listening to his walkman. He'd be asleep soon. But Face seemed very much awake and very much lost in thought, staring at the back of the seat in front of him as if it was the most engrossing thing he'd seen in a very long time.

"You okay, Lieutenant?"

Face blinked, coming back to reality for a moment and turning to glance at Hannibal. "Just fine."

Hannibal smiled. He couldn't help but wonder if Face realized what he'd just said. Ordinarily, he would've been sure of it; "just fine" was one of the distress codes that was hard-wired into all of them, ever since Vietnam. On the other hand, there was an equally good chance that it had been entirely subconscious. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to clarify.

"Just fine?"

Face gave a practiced smile as he recognized the words. "I'm alright. Just a lot on my mind."

"Such as?"

Face sighed as he sat back, shifting slightly. "How long do you think it'll be before they publicize sketches of us for this little escapade?"

"Hopefully well after we land. Information doesn't flow very fast from behind the Iron Curtain. We should have a week at least. In fact, I was thinking about arranging an extra day or two in LA."

That was just another friendly comment - like "how's the weather?" But Hannibal watched Face's reaction to his idea with way more interest then he allowed to show. Unfortunately, Face had no outward reaction.

"You know as soon as Stockwell hears we pulled it off, he's going to be on his way. And you know he doesn't have much trouble getting information no matter what side of the curtain it's on."

"Even so, I figure we have at least twenty-four hours in LA, Stockwell free."

Face sighed. Hannibal tipped his head curiously.

"What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"

"I'll be surprised if it takes him twenty-four hours. Hell, he's probably consulting psychics to try and anticipate what we'll be doing next week."

Hannibal chuckled. "Are you going to see Jessica while you're in town?"

"I thought about it." His tone was deceptively nonchalant.

"And what did you decide?"

"I'm still deciding."

"Why's it such a hard decision?"

"Technically, we're on the clock until we debrief."

For some reason, Hannibal found that highly amusing. "Since when do you care about technicalities?"

Face cast a sideways glance at him, but didn't answer.

"Go see her, Face. You deserve a break."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that. I'm just not sure I trust the situation. For all I know, Stockwell's got tracking devices sewn into our underwear."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Hannibal. In fact, it made him smile. "So have her come to you. Come on, Face, you can't tell me you, of all people, can't figure out a way to get what you want."

Face raised a brow at him, curious. "Why do you care, all of a sudden?"

"Because you think and function much better when you've recently been laid." Hannibal had known that from the time Face was nineteen. "And Stockwell's just going to keep trying to kill us with these missions whether you're all there or not. So we're going to LA. You and Murdock _both _need to get it out of your system and get back to giving me a hundred and ten percent. Before one, or both, of you get us all killed."

Face stared at him for a long moment. But it wasn't as if he'd said anything particularly profound. Or accusatory. It wasn't a threat, or an insult. Face knew it just as well as he did the importance of focus, and the fact that he found it very hard to focus with other things on his mind.

"You planned this from the start, didn't you?" Face said, amused.

Hannibal smiled back. "And I love it when a plan comes together."

***X*X*X***

** Once the guys got in, we spent the day in the city. It was so good to be back in LA. Sort of like what I was saying earlier with the "home base." That's LA to me now. Something about it is just familiar and relaxing. **

** Hannibal asked where you were. I don't know why I lied to him, but I did. I told him you were busy. I guess it would've been just as easy to ask you, and then you could've told me you were busy, and then it wouldn't have been a lie. But then we're right back to why I didn't wake you up before I left.**

** I did call you. I remember that it was right around two o'clock because we'd just finished lunch at the little hot dog stand down by the beach. You didn't answer, and I didn't leave a message. I just figured I'd try again later.**

** In the meantime, we had one of the most relaxing days I've ever had. Frankie was off after this redhead in a bikini like a shot out of a gun. BA hitched a ride down to the day center where he'd spent so much time volunteering with the inner city kids. Hannibal and I walked the whole length of the beach, just because could. Face took off early in the evening, probably to see Jessica. I think he was glad to be home too.**

***X*X*X***

The knocking on the door was incessant. Still dripping water on the floor from the bath, wrapping her robe around her body tightly, Jessica tripped down the stairs. This had damn well better be an emergency. As she threw the door open, she blinked in surprise at the Dominos delivery man standing on her porch.

"Yeeeah, ah gottan estra large pep'roni," he shoved the box at her, "an' tha'll be tirteen dolls an' sen'ty fi cent."

She blinked. "Excuse me, what?" She could barely understand the mumbled slur.

He didn't answer. She stared at him – what she could see under the hat that was pulled down low over his forehead. His head was tipped down and bobbing back and forth and his foot was tapping. A thin black cord hanging down his chest went from his headphones to a walkman on his belt. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed the pizza back at him.

"I didn't order a pizza."

The glance up at her was so quick, he didn't even make eye contact. He looked at the paper stapled to the top of the box. "This yer address. You gotta pizza."

"I told you," she said firmly, "I didn't order a pizza."

"Anyone else who coulda –"

"No." She took a step back. "Sorry."

"Wull, hey, lady." He took a step forward, putting a hand on the door to keep it from closing on him. She straightened, eyes narrowing as he stepped over the threshold and _into _her house. "Ah gotta pizza here needsa be paid fer. Why'ncha jus' take it, huh?"

She quickly evaluated her surroundings. The flicker of instinctive fear was overcome by the anger she felt as she considered the fact that he might actually be threatening her. She still hadn't gotten a good look at his face. She wondered if that was intentional. She was damn sure that he was intruding on her personal space.

She glared at him. "I'm going to ask you nicely to take a step back. And then I'm going to call my husband. And then the police."

He laughed nervously, and took a big step back, setting the pizza on the table by the door. "A'ight I'm outta here. Here, ya jus' keep da pizza. 'Ave a nice night."

As he backed out onto the porch, head still down, she closed the door behind him. She left her hand against it as she leaned forward and turned the lock. She suddenly realized how fast her heart was beating. That had been too strange, too unpredictable, for comfort.

Shaking off the adrenaline, she stared for a moment at the pizza. As her heart rate slowed back down to normal, the curiosity got the best of her and she pulled the paper off the top of it to check the address. She blinked as she stared at it. No address, just big block letters that said, "Open me."

Not sure what to expect, she pulled top back and peered inside of the box. In it was a steaming pepperoni pizza. On top of the pizza was a pair of handcuffs and another note.

_Now open YOU. _

– _Face_

Her eyes widened, and she almost forgot to throw the lock before yanking on the door handle. He was leaning on the frame, just on the other side of the door with a wicked smirk on his lips and a mischievous light in his eyes – which she could now see since he'd tipped his hat back.

"Gotcha," he whispered.

The joy, adrenaline, irritation, and frank shock all rose up at the same time as she hit his chest with both palms, pushing him back. "You _ass_!"

She laughed loudly as he regained his balance, stepped through the doorway, and circled one arm around her waist. He removed the hat, dropping it on the floor, and kicked the door closed behind him. She made a soft, needful sound as he pulled her hips against his and claimed her lips in a deep, probing kiss.

"Kids?" he gasped, reaching down to help her with his shirt. She let it go, and he raised it over his head in one fluid motion, dropping it on the floor.

"Gone."

"Any chance?"

"No."

Still kissing her, he pushed her back towards the nearest flat surface. It happened to be in the dining room. He flipped the light off as they passed the translucent curtains of the front window, plunging the room into shadows. Blindly, he pulled the tie on her robe just as she got the clasp of his belt undone, and he kicked the chairs away from the dining room table as he laid her back on it. She held his face as their tongues played.

She could feel the fire in her veins, the frantic beating of her heart as the heat gathered between her legs. By the time he entered her, pants still loose around his thighs, she was as wet as he was hard. Their bodies locked together like two pieces of the same puzzle, and they gasped in unison at the shock of the pleasure.

He pushed her up further, lying over her. The solid oak table was strong enough to hold their combined weight, but it creaked in protest nonetheless. Their kiss broke only for quick gasps of air, and even then, their lips never strayed far from each other. Hard, passionate, desperate… she couldn't even think.

His belt was scraping lightly on the tabletop as his hips jerked against hers. His gasps of pleasure, her name mixed with erotica and romance, were echoing in her ears. She heard all of it and none of it. Arms and legs both wrapped tightly around him, she writhed with pleasure.

"Oh, yes…" She arched high, clawing his back as she felt her womb clench hard. "Yes!"  
His guttural cry, the broken rhythm of his desperate thrusts, the tightened grip on her hips… she knew he was coming in the same instant that the release hit her. Trembling, clenching him tightly, she felt him pull himself down, regaining the control, the way he always did when he was planning an entire evening of this.

The smile on her lips was accompanied by a heartfelt laugh, and she buried her hands in his hair as she held his face to her neck. He was kissing her softly, between his gasps for breath. Neither one of them moved for a long moment. As he finally pulled himself up to look down on her, she smiled lazily up at him.

"Hi," he said softly.

Her smile grew. "Hi, Face."

"How are you?"

"Never better." She reached up and stroked the side of his face, pushing his hair back. "That was mean, you know."

"What was?"

"Tricking me like that."

He laughed as he pushed himself up and staggered a bit before he found his balance. Then he offered a hand to her. "I can't believe you didn't recognize me."

"Well, I wasn't expecting you. You're supposed to be in Virginia."

"Yeah, but still. I couldn't do a whole lot to hide my face."

"You never made eye contact."

"Eye contact?" He laughed as he steadied her, and wrapped an arm around her waist as he leaned forward, touching his lips to hers without kissing her. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I was just trying not to get hard when I saw you open that door in nothing but this." He ran his free hand up the inside seam of the robe. "I figured you'd probably notice that."

She smiled as she kissed him, sliding a hand down to cup him gently. "Yes, it's rather noticeable."

He moaned softly, running his tongue along her bottom lip before he kissed her slowly, deeply. "Guess what?" he whispered as he pulled back slightly.

"Hmm?"

He smiled. "Stockwell's in Virginia. And I'm here. And I have absolutely nowhere to be and no one to report to until tomorrow morning at nine."

"What happens tomorrow morning at nine?"

"We rendezvous back at the hotel room."

"We?"

"Whole team is here."

She smiled. "Really?"

"Mmm hmm. Just for a night or two. It's a long story. But in any case…" He wrapped her in a tighter embrace, parting the robe so that her naked breasts pressed against his warm chest. "We have the next thirteen hours to make love over," he kissed the corner of her mouth, "and over," her jaw, "and over," the soft pressure point below her ear.

She giggled softly. "I like that idea."


	9. Chapter Eight

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

** It was about six when I tried to call you again. But again, you didn't answer. This time, I remember, I did leave you a message. I wanted to take you to dinner. Not that night, but the next. We had it all planned. Actually, I wanted us all to take you to dinner. To sit around a table at some comfortable little restaurant and sing happy birthday and watch you smile. But you weren't answering.**

** Hannibal left to touch base with Maggie Sullivan in Black Rock. She's a friend we've had for a couple years, and he's always kept in touch with her. Nothing romantic, I'm pretty sure. But I would've been surprised if he **_**hadn't **_**gone there. He called Stockwell before he left, and bargained with him for three days. He'd already heard about the whole thing by the time Hannibal called him, and it would've gotten messy if he'd waited much longer.**

** That meant I had the choice to either stay in the hotel Stockwell arranged for us, or find another place for the night. I probably should've come back out to see you, and I really did plan on it. I was just going to take a nap first. There was no way I would've stayed in that hotel the whole night, under Stockwell's watchful control, if I'd planned it. But my little nap lasted all night, and I didn't wake up until morning.**

** I called you one more time and left you another message. I probably should've started worrying about you then. But, really, the thought didn't even occur to me. I was just so thrilled to be back home, it just sort of drowned out all the bad thoughts.**

***X*X*X***

"Oh, it is so nice to be back in LA."

Murdock sighed wistfully, one hand buried in his pocket, the other gesturing freely as he walked beside Hannibal and Frankie, through the blooming gardens of the Beverly Palms Hotel. He was pretty sure that none of them had stayed there the night before. As nice as the rooms were, when there was a choice between Stockwell's very nice – and probably very well monitored – room and anywhere else in their "hometown", it wasn't much of a debate.

"The freeways, the shallow people, the superficial relationships," he continued with a smile. For all of its faults, Murdock suspected they were all in agreement that there was no place they'd rather be than LA. "How could we have lived anywhere else?"

"And don't forget the smog." Frankie coughed for emphasis.

"Ah, the smog." Murdock's smile grew. "That sunset, when the light hits the inversion layer just right it turns a beautiful shade of orange."

"Brings a tear to the eye," Hannibal said, setting his cigar between his teeth.

"My sentiments exactly, Colonel."

Hannibal smiled as he set a hand on Murdock's shoulder.

"I love this place!" Frankie exclaimed. "It's not every day a kid from the barrio gets to stay at the Beverly Palms hotel."

"And buy a pair of six hundred dollar alligator boots and charge them to room service."

Frankie winced slightly, in spite of the fact that Hannibal's glance at him was anything but angry. "No go?" he guessed.

"Uh uh. Take 'em back Frankie." Murdock glanced at them and saw Hannibal's other hand on Frankie's shoulder. Relaxed. He liked it when they were all relaxed. "It's not nice to waste the taxpayers' money."

No better place to relax than in LA.

"So how's Kelly doing, Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

"Hey, that's right!" Frankie exclaimed. "How'd your wild and crazy night go?"

Murdock smiled knowingly. "Not so wild and not so crazy. I stayed here last night."

"Are you kidding?" Frankie asked in disbelief. "Why?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on it. But I was tired."

"Is she joining us for dinner?" Hannibal asked.

"I hope so. As long as I can get a hold of her."

They stopped at the front desk to check for messages, and Murdock winced at the frown that crossed Hannibal's face. That was never a good sign.

"Uh oh."

"What's wrong?"

"Looks like Stockwell might be joining us for dinner, too."

Murdock's smile fell. Frankie groaned. "Aw, come on! We told him three days! Three days we needed before we could get the heat off and take him to the plane. Not one, not two, but three."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if the news of our little escapade yesterday has already hit the media." Hannibal shrugged as he slipped the note into his pocket. "In which case, Stockwell has reason to be a bit jumpy."

"How long before he gets here?" Murdock couldn't hide his concern and disappointment.

Hannibal shook his head. "He didn't say. Just that he was on his way. The message was at five a.m. Which would've been his eight o'clock on the east coast."

Murdock hid his face in his hand. Damn it…

"Don't worry about it, Captain." Hannibal took it all in stride, clapping a hand over Murdock's shoulder again. "We'll figure a way to get rid of him. We all need a night out."

They waited a moment for the elevator, and Murdock brushed between the people, accidentally bumping shoulders with a woman.

"Excuse me."

_"I hear you're a pilot."_

Memory. Crystal clear and unprovoked. Murdock froze, spun, and looked back at the dark haired woman in the black slacks as she walked away from him. She didn't turn around; he didn't get another look at her face. Mouth open, he wanted to say something, to call her back, to make her turn around. Nothing came.

"Murdock? You comin'?"

He looked into the elevator at Frankie and Hannibal, then over his shoulder as he turned and stepped inside. Almost to the front desk, the woman turned back, a curious expression on her Asian face. _"We have a mutual friend."_

Sue.

The elevator door closed.

***X*X*X***

** It's one thing to be a little crazy. It's another thing altogether to have full blown auditory and visual hallucinations. Ones you interact with and can't tell apart from the reality. I've been that kind of crazy before, and I don't like it. It's no fun when you actually believe that the monster under the bed can eat you, because you've seen it eat other people. And it's not fun to talk to someone for an hour before you realize they're not real. That quick flash of thought, like I hadn't really seen what I saw was enough to send me damn near into a panic.**

** But I did good. I had years and years of therapy to fall back on. I told myself I wasn't crazy, that I hadn't really seen anything at all, and that I never really even got a good look at her face. In other words, I lied to myself until I believed it. But he lie didn't quite satisfy the paranoia. Because way down deep, I knew it was a lie. I knew I was seeing things.**

** I wasn't going to talk about it, though. I went with Hannibal and Frankie back up to the room like nothing was wrong. BA was there. And Face had returned, too, while we were away.**

***X*X*X***

It might have been easier to actually rope a "real" woman for this dinner date. It definitely would've been less expensive, and it sure as hell wouldn't have been hard. A smile, an enticing look, and a kiss was all it ever took. And here in LA, Face knew right where to look. But at the moment, his mind was on anything but the game. He could've gotten any woman, but he wanted a professional – one who could do her job, take the money, and walk away. No drama, no coaching, no postulating, and no risk.

Stockwell knew they were here. Chances were pretty damn good he had eyes on them.

The cost/potential benefit ratio of dating had changed significantly. It wasn't worth it to suffer through the ramblings of double digit IQs for the chance of a few minutes of warmth and intimacy with a woman who meant absolutely nothing to him but thought she did. A professional had no such expectations, and was far less likely to embarrass him in public. There was an etiquette, an industry standard that separated an escort from a common hooker. Intelligence and charm. And the better she was at it, the less work he'd have to do tonight. He wanted an easy night. He needed it.

"So." With one hand up on the wall, to the side of Charese's head, he leaned in close to her, using the fingers of his other hand to stroke her jaw lightly. "I'll pick you up at eight, we'll have a pleasant evening, and if anyone asks, we met last night, hit it off right away, and uh," he let a raking gaze travel over her, head to toe, "spent the night at your place."

She giggled. "Ooh, secrecy."

He held back the groan. So much for escaping the double digit IQs. He had a feeling that by the end of this evening's dinner outing, he was going to be wishing that she was the one paying him.

"Yes. And it's very important that you remember that." It was like talking to a child.

"I'll remember."

He touched her lips with his finger. "Now, all you have to do is look pretty and giggle once in a while." That should be well within her repertoire. And hell, it was all that anyone would really expect out of her. He was only supposed to have met her the night before. "And be ready at eight. Okay?"

She nodded. "Is my hair okay?"  
Face smiled, and smoothed his hands down the woman's form-fitting dress as he pushed off the wall. He didn't dare touch the hair. Far too much work had been put into fixing it, he could tell. "You're beautiful."

He kissed her cheek as he reached for the door handle, and paused when her fingers came up to tighten his tie. She almost choked him.

As he pulled the door open, just in time to hear Hannibal ask his whereabouts, he worked to loosen, then straighten the tie as Charese took a moment to strike a few poses. He sighed inwardly. Nothing he could do about it now. He'd just have to play along.

He opened the door for her, and ushered her out with a quick kiss and some snide remark from Hannibal that he didn't catch. He gave a sigh as he closed the door behind her and turned back to the team. "Sorry she couldn't stay, guys, but uh, she had to run. She's uh," he slowly put his jacket back on, "collecting alms for the poor."

The glare from BA made him hesitate, but the only response came from Frankie. "Tell her to stop by my room and collect."

Face bit back the first thought that came to mind. _You can have her…_

Face caught the worried look on Murdock's face as the phone rang. Damn. Something had gone wrong. He was supposed to be happy. Instead, his brow was furrowed, eyes darting too quickly around the room, unable to stay still but not looking at anything in particular. Two people in the world could make him look like that. One was Alan. The other was Stockwell. Hell, what had happened now?

"Front desk just got a strange message," BA announced as he hung up the phone. "The caller said to turn to channel eight."

"Stockwell," Hannibal concluded.

_Right on cue._

"Good morning, gentlemen." If there was one female voice he hated hearing, that was it. "I'm in the jet flying at thirty thousand feet. The room you're in is equipped with a two way video."

Oh, hell.

"How about the bedroom?" Face asked, nervously. That was the _last _thing he needed.

Stockwell was missing. That was a mixed blessing, of sorts. He wasn't there to provide their pardons, but he wouldn't be around to burn them, either. Face had to think for a moment on whether or not he really gave a damn that he had disappeared into thin air.

As they listened to the details of the newest crisis, Face watched Carla on the television with one eye and Murdock with the other. He didn't need to hear words to hear the confusion in Murdock's head. No, not confusion. The general sort of worry turned more specific, more intense with the mention of "major international player" Ivan Tregoran. Face didn't recognize the name. But the glances exchanged between Murdock and Hannibal suggested that one or both of them did.

This was going to be another very long day.

***X*X*X***

** When I called you the third time and got no answer, I was worried. Not just because I should be, but because I **_**was**_**. Stockwell was missing, so I knew it didn't have anything to do with him. But I wanted to come out and make sure you were okay. I just didn't have the time. **

** I didn't see Sue again, but I kept waiting for her to pop into view. That's the problem with paranoia. It puts you on guard and makes you always have to keep at least two tracks of thought at the same time: what's really happening and what could happen. The whole plan from the start had been just to get you to see the team and realize I **_**wasn't **_**hallucinating. And in the meantime, I couldn't keep my mind off the fact that I was. **


	10. Chapter Nine

**CHAPTER NINE**

Instead of the dinner date they'd planned, Murdock had been beaten up with Chinese food. The few hours of fitful sleep in the RV had felt worthless, and were plagued with flashes of what he could remember he thought he'd seen, but couldn't have really seen at all.

_"I hear you're a pilot."_

As if that hadn't been enough, at oh-five-hundred this morning, when he should've been asleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman, Murdock was raiding the Chinese Consulate and being shot at by guards with AK-47s to rescue a guy that he didn't frankly care to rescue. Whether Stockwell lived or died was only consequential to him so much as it affected the team. And the more and more he thought about it, the less and less Stockwell seemed to matter in the end. They'd lived as fugitives for years; why was it so different now?

The residual adrenaline was still flowing as he climbed down into the RV from the roof, behind BA. But it wasn't a good adrenaline. There was a big difference between the good adrenaline – the jazz – and the bad adrenaline – which just made him want to run away. This was definitely bad adrenaline. His thoughts hadn't slowed since seeing that thing he couldn't have possibly seen, and he was growing more and more exhausted by the minute. The adrenaline wasn't nearly enough to overcome the exhaustion.

_"We have a mutual friend."_

Hannibal's hand was on his shoulder, stabilizing him as he tried to regroup his rampaging thoughts. Still out of breath from the sprint across the rooftop of the consulate, the only bit of Hannibal's speech that he caught was "Murdock" and "psychiatric hospital".

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" A genuine panic, one that Murdock couldn't explain, made him tense up all at once. "This little do-hickey says that I am perfectly and sensationally sane!" He withdrew the index card from his jacket and handed it to Hannibal, eyes wide. "I'm not going back to any mental hospital!"

"Okay, Murdock, relax." Hannibal's tone was patient and comforting. "Relax."

Hannibal slipped the card back into his pocket, and put hands on his shoulders, steadying him. He took a few calming breaths.

"Murdock, I'm only asking you to pretend."

He closed his eyes. Of course. Of course that was all he was asking. Murdock nodded. He could pretend. He was good at pretending to be crazy. Of course Hannibal had no idea that he was really and truly hallucinating again.

"Okay," Murdock agreed.

_"My name is Sue."_

"Good." Hannibal's grip on Murdock's shoulders tightened, shaking him slightly. Then he turned away. Murdock watched him go, up to the front of the RV, and slowly stepped back, slinking towards the bedroom in the rear.

He was alone there, and he set the rifle on the bed as he sat down on the edge of it, holding his head in his hands. For a few minutes, it was quiet as they headed down the road. It gave him a chance to think, to organize his thoughts.

"Murdock?"

His eyes darted to Face, to the concerned expression as he leaned back against the dresser that was built into the wall. He looked away quickly, unable to hold the eye contact.

Face sighed. "Murdock, what is the matter with you?"

Murdock swallowed hard. To lie or not to lie? Face would never believe a lie. Face would never believe the truth.

"I'm just… I uh…" _Think, damn it!_ "I was really looking forward to that dinner last night and uh…" He trailed off, shaking his head. Pointless to even try. "Face, why are we doing this?"

_"We have a mutual friend."_

Face stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, just what I said." He paused. "You know, when Frankie was talking today. Er… yesterday." He sighed. "Sorry, I'm… losing track. It's all just kind of a blur and I'm starting to –"

"Murdock," Face interrupted. Murdock looked up at him. "Frankie was talking about what?" He stood up straight and took a step towards the door, sliding it closed.

"About what would happen if Stockwell just went away?" Murdock watched him carefully. Why was he doing that? Why did he want the door closed? Was he trying to trap him in here?

_"He's the best friend I've ever had."_

Deep breath. Murdock shut his eyes, put his head down. "And BA was saying how it made him nostalgic?" He paused, looked up again. "I mean… what difference would it _really _make in the end, right? How would it be any different from the way it always was before?"

Face just stared at him.

_"He's a good friend, no?"_

"I saw Sue yesterday." There. The words were out and there was no taking them back.

Face raised a brow. "Sue who?"

"You know, _Sue_!" Murdock stood, and paced, but the rocking of the RV going down the road made him sit back down. "_The _Sue. From Vietnam."

The recognition that came across Face's eyes was unmistakable. "Oh really? Where?"

"Back at the hotel." Murdock leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. "She was getting out of the elevator; I was coming in."

"Did you talk to her?"

"No. Yes. I mean…" He shook his head to clear it. "What?"

Face looked at him expectantly. "Did you talk to her?" he repeated.

Murdock was staring. "Face, I'm not crazy."

"I didn't say you were. Well, not in _this _conversation, anyways."

It took a long moment for Murdock to sort through the confusion in his head. How could he possibly talk to her? She wasn't real!

"Murdock, what's the matter with you?"

"We bumped into each other," Murdock continued in a rush. "All she said was 'excuse me.' But it was her voice."

"And that's what's got you all worked up?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean..." Murdock wasn't even sure what he meant. This calm acceptance was not what he'd been expecting from Face.

"Murdock, it probably wasn't even her. It's been a long time and memories – especially yours – are not always –"

"No!" Murdock interrupted. He stood again, not caring if he tripped into things. He _had _to move. Couldn't possibly just sit there. He felt like a caged rat… "I _saw _her, Face! But I'm not crazy! I know being here is… I know there's a lot I'm thinking – things in my head. I know! But I didn't make her up, Face! I didn't! I saw her! She was real and she was there and I thought I was making her up but I wasn't because I haven't seen her since and I would've if she was just in my head. I'm not crazy, Face. I swear, I'm not. I saw her."

"Okay."

Murdock stared at him, dumbfounded by the simplicity of the answer. "What?"

"I said okay." Face shrugged. "I believe you."

Murdock frowned. "No, you don't."

Face sighed, and sat down on the bed. "Her brother was an ARVN soldier, Murdock. A lot of them came over here after the war as refugees. She could've easily come with him."

Murdock stared. "You really think…? I mean… That might've actually been really her? For real?"

Face chuckled. "You don't have to convince _me_ you're not crazy, Murdock. I've seen you crazy. And I've seen you sane. If you really saw her, I can believe that. Anyways, what does it matter? You should've stopped and talked to her; then you'd at least have something worth panicking about. I wouldn't be surprised if she remembers you."

Murdock's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Rememb-" He cut off mid-word, shaking his head frantically. "Face, I don't want her to remember me!"

"Why?"

"Because!"

Face raised a brow, waiting for more.

"Because…" Murdock tried, struggling for a better, more complete answer. "Because… I don't know!"

Face gave him a funny look. It was that look he got when he just couldn't figure Murdock out. This time, Murdock wasn't sure he wanted to explain. Or even if he could. After a long silence, Face shrugged, and rose to his feet.

"Well, in any case, if you just bumped into her, the chances of it happening again are slim to none." He walked to the closet – Frankie's cousin's closet – and rummaged for a minute. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"But what if it does?"

"Then it does." He shrugged, nonchalantly as he withdrew a white dress shirt and held it up, looking back and forth between it and Murdock.

"Too small," Murdock said, keeping his eyes on Face. "And what do you mean, then it does? What's that supposed to mean?"

With one last glance back and forth, Face agreed with Murdock's assessment and put the shirt back in the closet. The sleeves of the next one were a little longer. "Try that one on," he instructed, tossing it to Murdock.

"Why?"

"Because you need to at least change clothes before you go with Hannibal." Face cast a lingering glance at him. "And you might wanna wash up, too. You're a mess."

Murdock stared. "Wash up?"

"Yeah." Face turned back to the closet. "Unless you're _going _for the disheveled look. How are you going to play this, Murdock?"

"Play what?"

"You got that shirt on yet?"

Murdock stared at the shirt in his hands for a long moment, and dropped it on the bed as he stripped his jacket. The rush of cooler air made him realize how overheated he'd been. He'd been so deep in thought, he hadn't even noticed. He glanced in the mirror attached to the wall above the dresser. Face was right. He was a mess. He took a deep breath. _Focus…_

For the next several minutes, he put his attention squarely on making himself presentable. The water in the tank of the RV was enough to keep a washcloth wet, and shaving was difficult in a moving vehicle but he managed. When he finally walked back to the bedroom area, Face glanced at him and nodded.

"Better," he approved.

"Hey, Face?" Murdock spent a long moment staring down at the clothes Face had laid out on the bed.

"Hmm?"

Murdock glanced up and locked eyes with him. "If that was her… I mean, if I was you…" He shifted uncomfortably. "Would _you _want to talk to her?"

Face stared at him for a long moment, then finally smiled. "Murdock. Don't worry about it." He clapped a hand over his shoulder. "Trust me. Just get dressed, so we can find this Tregorin guy, grab Stockwell, and get the hell out of here."

***X*X*X***

** The last time I tried to call you was shortly after we'd found Stockwell. That time, your friend answered the phone. Angela, I think she said her name was. I knew she was lying when she said you weren't there. But I wasn't sure what to think about it. I thought maybe you'd call back on the number I left with her, but not really. I had a feeling the only way I was going to get to talk to you was to drive out there and see you. And I would've done it. Really, I would've. But I think I was actually afraid of what I was going to find. You didn't want to talk to me. I wasn't really sure what that meant, but I knew it wasn't good. So instead of driving out there, I looked for something else to occupy my overactive mind.**

***X*X*X***

The few minutes in the spotlight, to the tune of Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York", were all it took to elevate Murdock's mood, right into the clouds. It didn't matter that he was escorted out of the building by two very angry security guards. It didn't even bother him when he was tossed headfirst into the alley behind the club. Twenty-four hours in a psych ward – all part of the plan and goal to retrieve Stockwell – was all it took to remind him just how much fun it really was to be crazy. Stockwell was safe now and so was the Russian plane. And Murdock had planned this evening well.

As the door closed behind him, he pushed himself up, laughing loudly, and turned to put his back against the dumpster. He couldn't stop the laughter. He didn't try. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to be in LA, if only for one more night. That was all that mattered to him right now.

"You're not bad." The female voice startled him, and he quieted his laughter to turn and look through the darkened alley. "Though your exit needs a bit of work."

_"My name is Sue."_

The laughter stopped suddenly. Eyes on the shadowed, petite figure who had paused some distance away, he pulled himself to his feet. There he stood, silent, waiting, watching as she came closer, into the circle of light around the back door of the club. His breathing stopped, and his heart skipped a beat. When it started again, it was slightly faster.

"I knew I wasn't hallucinating."

The woman standing before him looked everything and nothing like the girl that he remembered. In a dark, business casual suit, her hair cut short, makeup done, purse over her shoulder, high heels… she looked every bit the part of a professional businesswoman. But it was her. Her eyes, her face, her hair and features. Murdock found himself staring, jaw slack.

"Do you have a habit of hallucinating?"

He picked his jaw up off the ground, took a breath, and licked his lips, bringing moisture back to his mouth. "Your English is improved," he said quietly.

She smiled. "[How is your Vietnamese?]"

He gave a nervous laugh. "[Not so good. I don't use it much.]"

She smiled, pulling her purse closer to her side, studying him. He stared at her for a long moment, then finally shook his head, clearing it.

"I didn't…"

He trailed off. There were no words. He didn't know what to say. Finally, he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck.

"You uh… You wanna go get a drink? I could really use a drink right about now."

She chuckled quietly as she nodded, still looking him over. She was not as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Or maybe it was simply because she'd had more time to get over the shock. In either case, her voice was steady and calm when she finally answered him.

"That's a good idea, HM. I think a drink is definitely in order."


	11. Chapter Ten

**CHAPTER TEN**

** There was nothing scandalous about that drink. I spent most of the time just trying to convince myself that I was really seeing what I was seeing. Face's casual guess about how she'd gotten here, to the States, was dead-on. She and her brother had both gone to work in a factory, and had paid out of pocket for him to go to school, then for her. They both had college degrees now, and were both American citizens. **

** I sat across from her for the longest time, listening to her story and wondering only one thing: Why had she sought me out?**

*X*X*X*

"Um. This may sound a bit forward and…" Murdock swallowed the lump in his throat as he swirled the ice in his empty glass. "And don't think that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

She was quiet for a moment. Then, with a smile Face would be proud of, she raised her hand to the bartender, gesturing for a refill. He nodded to her, and she pushed her empty glass away. "When I saw you the other day, I wasn't sure it was you," she said quietly. "I thought maybe I was imagining it."

"You and me both."

"I walked out of there and thought, it couldn't be. But then I stopped and went back in and looked for you. I checked the front desk, but they said you weren't registered. I didn't think they'd tell me anyways if you were."

The bartender set two full glasses in front of them again and Murdock nodded his thanks.

"I went back a few times just to hang around and see if I'd bump into you again. I wasn't expecting to see you at that club, that's for sure."

"Why?" he asked again. "Why were you looking for me?"

She smiled. "Now you _do _sound like you're not happy to see me."

"No, just... surprised." He took a long drink. "It's been a long, long time."

"I'm very glad I did see you. I never thought I would. America is a big country, after all."

He stared.

"About your friends..." She lowered her gaze. "I'm so sorry about what happened."

He hesitated, not sure how much she knew and how much she didn't. He wasn't even sure – _really _sure – that she was really real. He wasn't crazy. He knew he wasn't. There were no drugs, no reason for him to be hallucinating. And even if he was, she was far too real. Far too _here_. And not the way he remembered her.

"What do you mean?"

"The... trial."

"Oh. That." What else was he supposed to say? He tried to pull his eyes away from her, to stop staring. He didn't succeed in his efforts.

"I come to LA on business," she started in a rush. "Once in a while. I'd heard about the A-Team, but I didn't know. It was just names - and not your name. Back then, I never even knew his name."

"Face?"

She nodded, but was quiet for a moment. "I didn't have any idea until… with the trial. I was here and I saw it in the paper, with a picture. It wasn't hard to put it together after that."

He didn't know what to say to that. So he said nothing, just took a drink, staring down at the top of the bar.

"I missed you, you know," she said quietly.

He couldn't help but look up at her. The sudden reference to a time long past was as casual as she could make it, but still startling. Could she really just bring that up? Over a drink, a dozen years later?

"You never said goodbye. You just disappeared. You and Face - both of you. I had to assume you were dead. I'm sure you can understand how surprised I was to find out he was part of the A-Team. And you... seeing you in the hotel. With Hannibal Smith." She looked immediately up at him. "That was Hannibal Smith, right? I saw his picture, too. In the paper. Right around the time that they executed him."

He barely even registered that there was a question in there. He was staring at her.

"Does that mean Face is alive too?"

_I missed you, you know. _The words were still echoing in his head. She missed him? How was that possible? How could that be right? But she wasn't lying? He could tell by her body language and how, just like Face, she couldn't look in his eyes when she was feeling vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Sue."

"Sue." She gave a brief, soft laugh that seemed to hold very little humor. "No one has called me that in years."

He caught up to the question and shook his head to clear it. "Face. He, um... Yes. He's alive."

She smiled. "Good. That's good. You should tell him hi for me."

He was staring again. It was that simple? He told her and she just believed him?

"I guess you could say we've all come a very long way," she sighed. "No one here knows anything about the life I led before moving to America. I don't think anyone would really understand."

"I understand." He looked away. She had risen just about as far as he'd fallen since them. "Face does, too. What it's like to remember the person you were, what it felt like to be them. Even when you've changed so much that it doesn't seem real sometimes."

"It really is funny to think I'm seeing you again, after all this time. I thought for certain you'd been killed. And you and Face were simply the highlight of my life back then. You even more than him, if you can believe it."

He almost flinched, and took another drink to cover it up. "I wouldn't have guessed that."

"Why?"

"Just… not the way it normally works."

"My relationship with Face was very professional."

"Well, given your profession that still doesn't make it any easier for me to understand."

She smiled faintly. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"Care to share it with me?"

"No. It was private. But it's also over. He disappeared the same time you did. And he was easier to let go of."

He paused for a long moment. She deserved an explanation of some sort. After all this time, what would it really cost him to give her one?

"We did die, in a way," he said quietly. "We were in a POW camp. We got separated. They escaped after a month. I was in for six."

She studied him for a long moment, then looked away again, lifting her glass again. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago." He didn't bother to lie and say it was fine. They both knew better. Funny how a long time ago felt like yesterday right now. "They're old wounds."

She studied him for a long moment, eyes serious and locked on his. Even looking away from her, he could feel the scrutiny. Finally, he turned and glanced at her. He didn't move as she reached up one hesitant hand and stroked the side of his face, all the way down his jaw.

"Some men wear their wounds like medals," she said quietly. "Others try to hide them in the dark. Which are you?"

It was déjà vu - comfort and understand in a touch and soft tone. Touch that had nothing to do with sex. He put his hand over hers and gave a small smile at her. For what she had given him then and what she was offering now. "I gave up wearing medals decades ago."  
"You shouldn't have. You've earned every one of them."

"No. The man who earned them is long gone."

"We've all come a very long way. But I know you. Just as you know me."

He closed his eyes just a second against the flood of memories and feelings. He opened his eyes to find himself looking at her. "I'm so sorry. I should have found you, told you. I didn't understand."

She gave a tight, forced smile, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "They're old wounds."

"That I gave you."

"I forgave you for that a long time ago."

He shook his head. He didn't want to go further, but he did. He had been so very wrong. "I had a brother who disappeared. I spent years thinking he was dead and he wasn't. He never tried to contact me. I know what it feels like. And I shouldn't have done that to you."

"You don't owe me anything," she said, almost dismissively as she withdrew her hand. "It was just business for soldiers."

"Not for me."

"Yes, HM, even for you."

He frowned deeply, and turned to face her on the barstool. "Sue, look at me."

Very slowly, she turned back and raised her eyes. Without thinking, he raised a hand to the side of her face, fingers resting in her hair.

"You were more than just a working girl. At least you were to me. You were – you _are_ – beautiful. And I'm sorry I did that to you. You deserved a hell of a lot better than that."

She gave a sad smile. "Maybe it's romantic in retrospect. But back then, your line of work and mine naturally crossed paths. I don't fault you for following your path when it led you in another direction. You were a soldier. And soldiers always leave, eventually."

He flinched. Those words were sharp, and stung like a slap to the face even though he was sure that hadn't been her intent. But with those words out of her mouth - in her not quite natural accent - time rewound almost twenty years. The warmth and innocence of a woman's caress, jasmine scented hair and a smile that lit up his dark world. Intimacy and connection...

Some sense of preservation slammed the door shut on his memories. He couldn't afford to relive those memories. It was a long time ago, and he would never be in that place again. He couldn't even let himself remember it. It was too painful. With a cold, brutal force of will he shut it all away. All of his focus was on Sue, and the present.

"I was an idiot and I was wrong," he said flatly. It was all he was going to say about it. It was all he could say about it. "But I can't change it now."

She must have realized the change in him. She nodded quietly, and reached into her purse, withdrawing a pen a moment later. "Well, you don't have to feel obligated but if you're ever in Sacramento..." She scribbled her phone number on the napkin and slid it over to him with a polite smile. "Feel free to look me up, okay?"

He watched her for a long moment, then gave a tight smile and nod. Just before she left, she leaned in to kiss his cheek in a friendly gesture. "It was very good to see you again. Feel free to call me anytime. The number I'm staying at while I'm here is on there, too. Have a good night, Murdock."

It was the last thing she said before she turned and walked away, leaving him alone at the bar.

*X*X*X*

Murdock was pacing. But it wasn't that frantic, "too much energy" pace he did in the middle of a manic episode. The speed of his walk matched the speed of his thoughts, slow and methodical, and it was enough to let Face know he was at least trying to think this through.

"Are you going to call her?" Face asked simply, not sure if Murdock's thinking was along the right path or not.

"Call her?" Murdock repeated with a frown. "Why would I call her?"

"To see her?"

"Why would I want to see her?"

"Are you going to call Kelly, then?"

"Why would I call Kelly?"

Face chuckled. "Murdock..."

"What?" Murdock asked innocently.

"Are you really _asking _me why? Or are you just stating the obvious in the form of a question?"

"That you do want to call her because you do want to see her."

Murdock shook his head. "I don't want to see her."

"Because of Kelly?"

Murdock stopped pacing sat down on the edge of the bed, and held his head in his hands. "Kelly ain't even answering her phone anymore."

"So go drive out there."

"Why? If she don't wanna talk to me on the phone, she sure isn't gonna want to see me on her doorstep."

"Do you want to see her?"

"Yes." Murdock looked up, his expression pained. "No. I don't know."

Face watched him quietly for a long moment. "You should probably decide before we leave LA in the morning."

Murdock's frown only deepened.

Face sighed. "Come on, Murdock, you'll feel better if you just do _something_. If you want Kelly, go get her. If not, call Sue."

"If I _want _her?" Murdock asked in disbelief. "I love her."

"So go bang down her door until you both believe that."

The hurt look that came over Murdock's face spoke volumes. "Until we both believe that?" he repeated. Face sighed. "Murdock, I'm not one to make judgment calls, especially on things that are none of my business. But the fact that never even crossed your mind, on your own, to go pound down her door says a hell of a lot."

Murdock looked away, not agreeing but not denying either. He wanted to believe that he really did love her that much. But even now, going after her wasn't really a consideration.

"What would you do, Face?" Murdock asked. "What would you say to her?"

Face hesitated for a long moment, then continued very carefully. "Murdock, I'm not you."

"I know you're not me. I'm asking what _you_ would do."

"I wouldn't sit in this room all night. Other than that, I really don't know."

Murdock looked down, hiding his face with his hand. "I'll call Kelly," he said quietly. "If she still won't talk to me, I'll go out with Sue. Just as a friend, nothing more."

Face nodded slowly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Good. Sounds like a good plan."

*X*X*X*

** Face knew. He had to know. Maybe part of it is that really weird way he sometimes seems to know me even better than I know myself. He could tell from as little as he knew that I wasn't going to get a hold of you. I almost think he knew right from then how the night would end. That's probably why he got the suite for another night, even though that's not where we ended up. **


	12. Chapter Eleven

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"Thank you for dinner, Murdock." Sue paused at the door to her hotel room and turned back to face him with a soft, calm smile. "I had a wonderful time."

"Me too," he answered, surprised to find that it was the absolute truth. The evening had been comfortable and entirely relaxed - old friends sharing a few drinks and catching up, well aware that the night itself was a closure of sorts to a life that neither one of them lived, or even thought about anymore.

She lowered her eyes, soft smile still in place as she sighed. "You know, I used to wonder what life could've been like if you hadn't... died."

His head dropped as well, at that. She didn't intend it as an insult; he was sure of that. But her words were just one more reminder of what he had done to her, and the irony of the fact that it was the very same thing that Alan had done to him. He could justify it all he wanted, but the fact remained that she had every right to be just as angry at him as he'd been at Alan when he discovered that he wasn't dead.

"It was one of the reasons why, when my brother came and found me and told me we had been guaranteed safe passage to America as refugees, I had so much hope. Not that I thought I'd ever see you again, but... the life you lived. The life that might have been, if you hadn't died..."

Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers again, and found her watching him with that simple smile on her lips. She looked almost childlike, and yet so much older than he had known her before. She was still beautiful, even more so than she had been back then. But now, with her manicured nails and makeup and styled hair, it was a very different kind of beauty. One that she covered with an expensive black dress rather than provocative rags. He was more proud of her, happy for her, for what she had become than he could express. She truly had risen as far as he had fallen. How many people had seen, in their lives, such opposite ends of the spectrum?

He closed his eyes as he felt her fingers against his cheek. The soft touch was comforting, and he tipped his head towards it without thought. "I know we're both very different people now than we were then," she whispered. "But I am glad to see that the war didn't change you."

Opening his eyes again, his gaze locked on hers. Didn't change him? Was she joking? There was nothing on her expression to make him think she was. "What do you mean?"

Her fingertips traced along his jaw, and she left her hand resting delicately against his chest as she looked up at him. "So many men - of your people and mine - were so damaged by that war. Especially here in LA, I see them. Full of bitterness and prejudice. Or roaming the streets, homeless and mentally ill."

He lowered his eyes again.

"They're talking about shutting down state funded mental hospitals," she continued softly. "There's going to be a lot more of them."

"Yes, I know."

"I always wondered what had happened to you. But I decided very early on that if it was bad, I didn't want to know. I sort of settled it in my mind that it was bad. I'm glad I was wrong."

He gave her a tight smile. What was he supposed to say to that? The thoughts and feelings that swirled in his head were too confused to be put into words, even if he'd wanted to.

"We are on two very different paths, Murdock. I don't imagine they'll cross again. But for what it's worth, you've brought me a lot of joy tonight. Again."

"Likewise."

She smiled again, then stepped up on her toes to plant a light, chaste kiss on his lips. As she took a step back her hand moved to the door she'd already unlocked. "You're a good man, Murdock. Take care of yourself."

"Sue, wait."

The urge to stop her had hit him so fast and so unexpectedly, it took him a moment to find words - or even to figure out what it was he wanted to say - as she looked back at him curiously. He took in a deep breath, let it out slow, and put his shoulders back. But they quickly slouched forward again. Giving up on the confident posture, he instead slipped his hands into his pockets.

"I am sorry," he finally whispered. "If I could go back and change one thing about all of that, I would've found a way to let you know that I was okay. I thought... I guess I thought Face would've done it and I didn't want you to see..."

He trailed off. She smiled again, faintly. "Face stopped seeing me shortly after you started."

Murdock blinked, surprised. "Why?"

"Because you were falling in love."

Murdock stared at her in dumbfounded silence as his mind ran back over the conversations he'd had with Face during that time. With lightning speed, he recounted them all, then found himself still staring at her, trying to form an answer to that.

"I don't know if it was love," he finally admitted. "But I know that I would've given you a lot more than money if I... If I'd been able to."

"It's okay," she said softly, reaching up to touch his face again. "Whatever it was, it was a lifetime ago."

"What you said, about it being just business for soldiers..." He shook his head slightly, lowering it. "What you have, what you were to me... Money can't buy that. I know you probably don't think a lot about that time in your life. And you shouldn't. People, especially people here in America, wouldn't understand. Hell, I don't understand. I don't understand how you could do what you did and not... die inside. But you were always more than that to me. You were a friend. And I needed a friend."

"So did I."

Once again, it was like a blow to the chest. And once again, he knew she hadn't meant it that way. "If there was anyone in that war that could've made me capable of loving again, it was you. And I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I never said goodbye."

"I forgive you."

He looked up at her again, well aware her fingers softly stroking his jaw. Open and vulnerable in a way he hadn't been in a very long time, he could feel himself melting into that touch.

"Don't hurt her, Murdock."

"Hurt who?"

"Your girlfriend, whoever she is."

The brief thought of Kelly hit him with another wave of emotions - but not the ones he'd expected. He should've felt love and care and concern for how hurt she would be if she saw him right now. But he couldn't even envision those emotions. Would she even be hurt? Or would she be relieved that he'd stopped calling her?

"Don't lose her because of me," Sue whispered. "You'll never even see me again."

"I've already lost her." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. They cut him to the core, but he couldn't take them back. "I've lost her because of who I am. What I am."

"What you are?"

He took a slow breath in. "You're wrong if you think that the war didn't change me. When I came back to the States, I spent thirteen years in a psych ward, certifiably insane. She knows that, and she..." He lowered his head, eyes sliding closed. "She can't see past it."

If Sue had any reaction to his admission at all, he didn't see it. He didn't feel it, either, in the way that her fingers continued to stroke softly over his cheek.

"I did love her," he admitted quietly. "And I have to believe that... in a way, she loved me, too. She just didn't know me. Or maybe she knew me too well."

Sue didn't speak. She hesitated a long moment to see if he would say more and, when he didn't, took a step closer to him. His eyes remained closed as he felt her wrap both arms around his midsection, hugging him tight. Without thought, his arms came around her, as well.

"I'm not crazy," he whispered. "But it's been so long since I could say that, I don't know how to say it and make people believe it. I can't even tell you what it's like, being so afraid of what's in your head. Everything else, everything outside, you can face it or you can run from it. But how do you run from something that's... you? How do you run from your own mind?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Because you can't control it. Because it controls you. It sees things, feels things that aren't there. It makes you do things that..."

He trailed off as his mind wandered over his own words. They were coming out of his mouth without thought - well rehearsed answers to questions he'd asked himself years ago. And there was truth to those answers. There were times that he was terrified of what was in his head - memories he didn't want to remember, darkness that he didn't want to feel, monsters that he didn't want to face. The feeling of panic over the possibility that he was hallucinating her was still fresh in his mind. But those moments were few and far between now. He remembered what it was like to be a prisoner of his mind, but it was the memory that haunted him, more than the fear of it happening again.

He'd spent so many years running from so many things, sometimes it was hard to keep track of them all. In all of it, he catered to the analysis of doctors and nurses. They gave him a lot of things to hide behind - medication, diagnoses, excuses. It was easy to play that role, and easy to accept that he couldn't only play it when he felt like it. It became a lifestyle - a paradigm for the world around him, and for himself. "Crazy" was a role he embraced, even believed, long after the true effects of his submersion in that black hole had faded. It was both liberating and safe. And now that he'd lost that safety net, he wasn't entirely sure what to replace it with.

"Murdock?"

He opened his eyes and found her studying him with that same calm, patient smile she wore so well. "What?"

"I learned a very long time ago that you always have a choice. Even in the very worst case scenario, you have a choice to live or die. And I think, in a lot of ways, we choose who we're going to be. You chose to be different from every other soldier who paid pennies for sex. And I chose to be different from the girls that I worked alongside. There's a lot of years that have passed between then and now. But whoever you've chosen to be now, I hope you haven't completely let go of the man I knew. Because he was..." She trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she studied him. "Precious."

He smiled sadly at her, and gave a slight nod. Finally, he moved his hand up and into her hair, tipping her head back as he leaned down and kissed her slowly, thoroughly. There was warmth and comfort in that kiss. And something... defining. It made him think, just for a moment, that she might even know him better than he knew himself. Unfazed by the years of confusion, of self-denial and discovery, he was every bit the soldier in her eyes - just as if he'd never fallen from grace. Just as if all the horrors had never happened.

They had. He knew that. He could never truly go back to being that naïve and hopeful and trusting person he was back then. But that past was a part of him he'd almost forgotten over the years. And maybe it was a part he would be best to reincorporate. Maybe it was a part he didn't really want to lose.

As he pulled away, he nuzzled her gently. For the first time since they'd stopped at her door, he felt a very real smile cross his lips. "You're beautiful, Sue," he whispered. "Just as much now as you always were to me."

She smiled back. "As you are."

"Take care of yourself, okay?"

She nodded, and he tipped her head forward, gently kissing her forehead. Then, running his fingers through her hair one last time, he turned and walked away.


	13. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

** We went our separate ways after that. I'll never see her again, and that's okay. She was right, we are on two very different paths. Maybe we always were. I do know that there was something about her - about the way that she knew me and the way that she saw me - that was, to use her word, precious. I'm still searching for that part of me, and how it fits with my life now. The truth is, I can't go back to who I used to be. Too much has changed, and too much of it has changed me. But she helped me to see the good things about that person I used to be. For so long, it's been hard to see anything but the bad.**

** I've tried a few times, since then, to call you. You never answer. You're screening your calls. I guess that's okay, too. You knew a different part of me, and perhaps it was precious. Maybe it was just crazy. When I look back on the man that I've been, while I've loved you, I see someone who's a part of my past but as much a part of me as the soldier in Vietnam. This time, I thank God that it wasn't tragedy that separated me from him, and me from you. We just outgrew each other. **

** Still, I know that I will never regret a moment of the time we had together. You are a beautiful woman, and I wish you all the best in life and love, in family and future relationships. In happiness. Take care of yourself, Kelly. And know that you will forever be dear to me. **

**As always I remain **

**Sincerely yours,**

**H.M. Murdock**

Murdock took a deep breath as he set the pen down and looked for a moment at the pages spread out on the desk in front of him. The writing was hurried at some times, careful and meticulous at others. Reading back through it, he found any number of things he would've changed and rewritten in a final draft if he'd ever had any intention of sending this letter. But as he read it through her eyes, he knew that he had no such intention.

For years, psychiatrists had tried to turn him on to the wonders of written expression. Ordinarily, he didn't have the patience for it. But just now, with a bottle of sweet, white wine mostly empty on the table beside him and quiet music from the phonograph drowned by the patter of raindrops on the window nearby, his mind was exceptionally clear. He realized, somewhat surprisingly, that he'd been sitting here for almost three hours, and he'd only gotten up once. That spoke volumes for the amount of concentration that had gone into this letter - concentration he didn't know he had. And that level of concentration, of intricate self-reflection, showed.

As he thumbed through the pages, skimming over the scratchy handwriting from his cramped hand, he realized that he felt surprisingly little. It wasn't that cold, unfeeling self-preservation. It was just... peace. Whatever he was - whoever he was - now, it was not the man he'd been before. But he was proud of that man, all the same. If nothing else, he was proud of him for surviving.

Pouring the last of the wine into his glass, he sipped it slowly, reflecting. He closed his eyes, let the memories and the analysis settle, then finally pushed his chair back. Leaving his wine glass on the desk, he stood and took the letter with him to the kitchen. Folding it in half longways, he then twisted it into a tight, thin paper rope, turned on the gas stove, and lit the end of it. He watched it burn for a long moment, watched the paper curl as the black crept up toward his hand, the remnants of a former life turning to ash and smoke.

There was something very final and almost haunting about watching things burn. Fire was consuming; it ignited whatever it touched. As he dropped the remnants of the letter into the sink, letting it finish, he watched the flames creep over the words. Love and reflections and explanations that were worthless to anyone but him. They would remain his, hidden but understood, incorporated in the ways he wanted them to be and forgotten in ways that he didn't. He didn't need the words on paper - they were seared into his soul. And as he watched the letters vanish against the blackness, he smiled in quiet respite.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.


End file.
